Minimum Contacts
by shywr1ter
Summary: Sequel to Concurrent Jurisdiction, M/L S1-style. Logan keeping the truth from Max has shattered their relationship. Is there any hope for a future together for them now?
1. Gearing Up

**DISCLAIMER**: Characters and situations in this story borrowed from Dark Angel and NCIS. No profits made.

**A/N:** This story continues the adventures of Max and Logan begun in the S1-esque cross-over with NCIS, **_Concurrent Jurisdiction_**, in which Tony DiNozzo (Michael Weatherly) and Logan Cale (Michael Weatherly) are cousins. As much as I'd like to make this readable for those who haven't waded through that story yet, I'm afraid a good many references are from that story. This is fully AU, picking up just a month from where CJ left off.

This sequel is dedicated to all of you who were so encouraging about CJ, with my thanks for your patience and comments along with way. For those special folks in the world of DA who have lent a shoulder, an ear, their thoughts and humor, their knowledge and talents, their understanding and sympathy, kindness and patience, allegiance and indignation ... for the times that were especially dark, you'll never know what light you've been. Sincere thanks.

And for this story: **Reilyn**, thank you for the guidance on Portland facilities. Your help made this much easier to set up. And a big, big thanks to **Mari83** for taking the time to read an early draft and offer her insights as to whether or not this was a decent way to start off the CJ Sequel. Mari stayed up to the wee hours of the morning half way across the world, 'til I could send it for her read-though. Mari, thank you – now get some sleep!

No more A/N babbling. As ever, any and all comments and reviews appreciated.

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"_**Choosing Appropriate Forum When Federal and State Courts Share Concurrent Jurisdiction: **Because the federal court generally utilizes the applicable state 'long arm' statute to obtain personal jurisdiction over a defendant, the federal and state courts typically share the same territorial limits on jurisdiction. However, under some circumstances, the federal court may be able to effect nationwide service of process. The defendant must still have the constitutionally required 'minimum contacts' with the forum." _

_1-1 Federal Litigation Guide P 1.12, Matthew Bender & Company, Inc., 2006._

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_**MINIMUM CONTACTS**_

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**GREATER PORTLAND, OREGON: March 14, 2020; 8:22 a.m.  
Hilton Hotel, Vancouver, Washington**

_Logan Cale was like a little kid._

Max knew this. She'd figured it out fairly soon after she'd met him, although hadn't put a label to it that early. At various times over the year that she'd known him, in various circumstances, she found this character trait amusing, maddening, endearing, annoying – but had seen it, through his seriousness and intense focus on his mission, behind the mask and the walls he built around his emotions ... though his pain and though his stubbornness. He'd managed to hide most of the external evidence of it, all of it but the deep-seated, endless, doggedly optimistic hope at his core, even down past his frequent brooding, which led him to try, time after time, to make Seattle a better place. But deep, deep down, it was there, and it fueled his energy, his passions, his intelligence ... his loneliness ...

...and now it was fueling his anticipation and – _really, is this the serious Eyes Only I've had to knock heads with all these months?_ she allowed herself, amused once more – his excitement. She stifled a grin as she heard him in the corridor again, calling to her.

"C'mon, Max, we gotta go! Who knows how long it will take to get there, and find a place to park?"

He was popping with excitement, game face on and ready for battle, unable to sit still. The transformation, begun with his cousin's visit laying the ground work, had appeared in earnest mere days after Tony left: with its official entry into the Northwest regional wheelchair basketball tournament, Logan's basketball team had practiced and drilled and turned their motley band of pick-up ball players into an eager team that easily captured the local tourney games in Seattle.

From there, not only did the team travel on the following weekend to Portland for the regional round, but Logan's energy and enthusiasm for the game, for his work – and for Max – had bloomed as well. Each time she came to watch him play, with each game, each practice, he seemed to believe a little more that she _wanted_ to be there for him, to watch and support him, to be more a part of his life than merely a handy errand girl. His favorite brooding spot in front of the large penthouse windows had been empty for weeks. His focus on his work was intense but buoyant; he attacked his research and his investigations with a vigor and intensity borne of his physical strength and his newly-returning confidence. _I love you, Max, _he'd even dared to tell her. _If you're okay with the way I am ... who am I to argue?_

He didn't believe it all yet, despite those tough words, but he was getting closer. Max smiled again, involuntarily, as she remembered his child-like awkwardness in planning their hotel accommodations for the play-offs. It was so early in their "couple-hood" that they'd barely explored each other's lips, let alone the rest. But as with everything else in this nascent relationship, Max had been two steps ahead of him, emboldened by the trust she'd discovered in herself, for him, back at the cabin during Tony's visit, and had found a way to lead in this as well:

_Max, they have rooms that have connecting doors; we wouldn't have to get one, but if you wanted to ..._ he'd begun. He hadn't been able to look her in the eye, even in the soft candlelight of their dinner, even in the hush of the quiet penthouse...

_Who were you wanting to connect with, Logan?_ In contrast, suddenly sensing her opportunity, her eyes bored suggestively toward his, daring him to make contact; she knew he would, and at his glance up to her, her eyes locked onto his, challenging him as reached for his hand, turning it in hers and sensually stroking his palm with the tips of her fingers. Dinner unfinished, Max somehow knew that this was the perfect time for another installment of 'convincing Logan.' Simply laying down her fork, she rose from her chair and made her way into his lap before he could speak. As she began unbuttoning his shirt, she growled, as lustily as she knew how, _are you thinking of wasting your money on more than one room...?_

He was helpless under her attack, of course; his eyes had gone wide, he stammered a little and blushed a lot. _Max... I just ... I mean, we haven't, and I thought we were going to take our time..._

_Shhh... _her lips took his, and Max let her hands follow the contours and planes of his strengthening chest, his shoulders and back..._ And I'm taking my 'time' now,_ she teased, knowing how nervous he was, but knowing this was her opening to push past that unnecessary shame, knowing that he would always be reticent until she proved to him he had no reason to be ... seeing that he was caving already, his hands snaking up under her sweater, caressing the soft skin underneath, she grinned ferally and pulled his shirt away from his beautiful form. _C'mon, Logan ..._ she breathed in his ear,_ let's practice for the tournament... _

And now, back in Portland for a second weekend, his team in the tourney's final four, Logan's excitement with the games and his trust in letting Max see it – in letting Max into his life – was, at least for the morning, leaving Max with a companion more like an energetic ten year old than a beleaguered underground warrior. She tried to once again stifle her grin, but it was a losing battle. _Face it, Max,_ she told herself as she headed out to meet him, _you're as much of a push-over as he is..._

She just made it to the doorway before he set off down the corridor, barely waiting for her as she pulled the hotel room door shut behind her. "It's a lot better to make you wait now than to hear you moan for five years about not getting the game on tape," she called out behind him, waggling the small video camera in his direction. "After all that time you spent making sure I knew how to use it ... I mean, what could little ol' me know about complicated, pesky ol' machinery..."

Her sarcasm getting through his enthusiasm, Logan glanced up to roll his eyes at her and could barely manage it, lost after just one look back up at the beautiful face, eyes twinkling for him, her smile reacting to his wound-up anticipation of the tournament games ahead. Max, there at his side, at his games, faithfully wearing one of the tee shirts he presented to the team once they made it to the finals, for family and friends, the black shirt proudly bearing, over her heart, a smaller version of the team logo Max had designed...

_What the hell has happened to me?_ he managed to wonder for the hundredth time that weekend. _Look at yourself ... look at her ... you're alive and excited and happy, and she loves it! She loves **you**... who'd've imagined...? _"Are you trying to say I overdid it?" he managed to say, his own mouth curving into that hopeless look of affection he so often wore around her.

"Maybe a little." They came to the elevator and as they waited in the quiet, elegant hallway, the sort that let them pretend that the Pulse had never occurred, Max tried, "you have everything, right? Gloves, some water... anything else you need?"

"Nope – checked about five times." He fidgeted with the zipper on his warm-up jacket, pulling it down again, too warmed up inside to really need it. "Oh, Max," he suddenly looked back up to her, alarmed. "The extra batteries and tape; did you get...?"

"All in the bag," she patted the camera case at her side, and, dropping her voice, teased, "Geez, Logan, you'd think I'd never been on a mission for you before."

Expression settling again once he heard that Max had the filming covered, Logan relented into a smile and, eyes warm, lifted his hand to entwine it with hers, affectionately. "Never one so important as filming this game..." he teased, abruptly dropping her hand to grab his rims when the sudden ding of the elevator announced its arrival. Staring at the slow-to-open doors, jittering his wheels, he crowed when they finally began to pull apart. "Aha! Showtime!"

The doors opened too slowly to make Logan happy, and he pushed his way inside before they'd fully retracted. He snapped around in a tight pivot as Max came in behind him and punched the lobby button, arching an eyebrow toward him. "Maybe you ought to let me drive," she suggested.

"I'm fine," he snorted, a bit surprised. "I'm just ready for the game."

"I _know_, Champ," she explained, "but in addition to all that extra adrenaline jetting around in you 'for the game,' making me wonder just how focused you'd be on the traffic – you were worried about parking, with the lot torn up like it was last weekend. If I drive and we don't have much luck, I can drop you at the door, you can get in to the warm-ups without tearing up your wheels too badly or having to wait to switch chairs inside – and I'll find a us a parking spot."

Again relenting at her patient tolerance of his eagerness, Logan reached out to caress her back, lovingly. "Am I making you crazy?" he asked, almost contrite.

"I'm used to ya," she smiled softly, relenting herself to lean over and offer him a sweet, still-amused kiss, held for the few moments left before the elevator settled. As the doors rolled open, Max straightened, and leading Logan out of the elevator, turned to ask, with a smirk, "So, you handing over your keys?"

Never taking his eyes off hers, Logan grinned wryly and immediately reached around to dig in his backpack to pull out his key ring. Handing them to her obediently, he confessed, "why is it you always know just how to say things in just the right way?"

"Say them, or smooch for them?" Bling and Sandra, decked out in their "fan shirts" as well, walked up from where they'd been waiting in the lobby, Bling's voice drawling quietly as he saw their expressions. "Max has a way with words, but she seems to be having more luck these days with the latter..."

As morning greetings were exchanged among Max, Sandra and Bling, Logan's cheeks reddened slightly, still unused to having his feelings for Max be so publicly aired – or admitted. "Isn't it just _wrong_ for a man of your training and size and abilities to call it _'smooching?'_" he challenged.

"Call 'em as I see 'em. You ready for this game?" The trainer asked, and saw Logan's immediate, enthusiastic grin in return.

Max rolled her eyes, laughing, "Try holding him back. He's been chomping at the bit for an hour and a half."

"Breakfast?" Bling demanded, looking back at his charge. "We didn't see you in the dining room."

"Room service," Logan explained. "I wanted to eat a bit earlier, to let it digest..."

"Plenty of protein?"

"And carbs. Yes, Coach. Can we go?" Logan's impatient excitement returned, and his hands plucked again at his wheel rims, making the chair dance. As Bling threw up his hands in surrender and turned toward the parking garage, the others moved with him, Logan fussing to Bling and Sandra, "you two will help out Max with the camera, right? In case she needs a break?"

"I think that's Logan-speak for 'in case she loses interest.'" Max grinned back at the flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, his enthusiasm infusing her with joy for him, joy _with_ him. _No one deserves this moment of sheer enjoyment and fun more than he does_, she thought yet again. _Whatever it is that fires him up about this, please let the fires never go out..._ "I'll let them know if I need a potty-break."

The four went on to Logan's car and, with Logan's transfer into the passenger seat, Bling deftly moved to break down his chair, for stowing in the back beside the waiting court chair. As Bling moved toward the back with the chair, and Sandra toward the backseat, Logan spoke quickly, his voice suddenly carrying some hesitancy. "Max?" She turned back, from having started around to the driver's side. She came close, saying nothing, eyebrows raised, waiting. Again, he reached for her hand. "Thank you for this ... for getting us here ... for _being_ here." He looked into her eyes, still hopeful, but that small thread of lingering disbelief again left him unsure, so certain it couldn't be real. Still almost afraid to voice it, for fear of jinxing his luck, he battled down his demons to say, bravely, in a low voice just for her, "I love you."

Her smile bloomed, and he felt his breath catch in his chest. "You'd better," she teased, her voice warm and liquid. "Because I love you, adrenaline and all." She watched as this round of his still-appearing insecurity disappeared, and he smiled for her. "Now can I please get us over there, so you can win this game?"

His smile widened even more. "Haven't I been trying to get you to move all morning?" As she came around the front of the car to open the driver's side door, and Bling slid in next to Sandra in the back, Logan suddenly hooted. "Let's roll, c'mon!" The inner kid was back out now, on full display. "I got a game to win!"

**PORTLAND, OREGON: March 14, 2020; 10:45 a.m.  
Portland Metropolitan Exposition Center**

The ball arced up, rolled ... and dropped... and Max whooped, trying not to jump in excitement as Logan's shot pulled them to a comfortable twelve points at the halftime buzzer. _So who'd'a thought I'd be the wrong choice for cameraman?_ she beamed, waving wildly when she saw Logan turn to search the crowd for her as he pushed out at the half with the rest of the team, flushed with success. _Who thought I'd turn into a shrieking cheerleader?_ His joyous feeling of freedom was contagious, and seeing him feeling so strong, after so many months of watching him believe he was less than a man, half-dead, was pure happiness for Max. _So maybe he won't mind the camera jiggling each time he scored,_ she grinned to herself, _if he knows that he had me jumping and yelling each time..._

"Hey Max, we're going to grab a soda – want to come?" As family and friends of the players mingled around her at the halftime break, Sandra walked over to Max, on the sidelines, who had long before left her seat to get better shots of the team.

"No; you go ahead. I'd better switch tapes," she looked at the deck, showing more than half gone, what with all the warm up and pep talk footage she'd sneaked in.

"Want us to bring you anything?" Sandra asked as Bling finished talking with some others in their group and came up behind her.

Max shook her head. "I'm good. I might just get a few more shots of the people here, you know, the atmosphere," she looked around the crowd, larger than she'd expected. _A real tournament_, she noted, knowing it must have pleased Logan and the team, when they saw it...

Bling chuckled. "Logan's going to be impressed with all your work on this, Max."

She grinned again, self consciously. "Have I turned into one of those squealing, gushing girls I've always hated?"

"No – you turned into a woman who has admitted to herself how she feels about a certain man – and suddenly his victories are as sweet to you as they are to him." Bling nodded, happily. "Just the way it should be."

Max felt her cheeks warm as Bling's words touched her deeply, as they often did, even standing there in the middle of a crowd. Bling knew Logan Cale better than anyone did – and usually knew what was going on behind the green eyes. His observations about Logan – and her newly emerging relationship with him – meant a lot. "About time he got himself some victories, too," she tried to move Bling's attention back onto his employer.

But the smile simply grew wider – and more pointed. "He's had his biggest victory, Max, at least as far as he's concerned." Bling raised an affectionate hand to Sandra's back as they started to move off toward the concession stands. "The woman he loves, loves him. The rest is window-dressing."

As they left, Max let Bling's words roll around in her thoughts, and, feeling herself blush, decided she liked them. _Maybe I should cut the squealers some slack,_ she mused. _Maybe they found the perfect match for themselves, too..._ She lifted the camera to take a few more shots, seeing friends and family of Logan's team mates, others who had made the caravan trip with them, all wearing the black shirts that identified them as team fans. _What a weird little life this has suddenly become, _she allowed herself, happily recognizing that she had started living the 'normal' life, at least for these few hours over the past few weekends, the sort she never believed she could have. _What's next? Baking brownies? Bridge club, with Aunt Margo? _

_Or... dare she even consider such a thought... the PTA...?_

_Woah, slow down, Girl... _she grinned to herself. _Give yourself some time to enjoy being with Logan, and living this life opening up to you both, before you start thinking about the pitter-patter of little Cale feet around the house..._

"Excuse me." A voice interrupted her daydreams. "Hello..." A pleasant voice neared Max, and she turned to see a slim, attractive woman of about forty or so, smiling merrily at her. "You're Max, right?"

"Yeah." She tried not to be wary, she really did, because these days so many things in her life were _not_ malevolent and Manticore-related. But wariness had kept her alive so far ... and she smiled as calmly as she could, waiting. _Just someone with the team_, she breathed inwardly, half in reassurance ... half in prayer ...

"It's such a pleasure to meet you. My name's Barbara." The woman offered her hand for a warm, meaningful handshake, and added, with a wry smile, understanding the look of uncertainty in the younger woman's eyes. "I believe you're coming to my wedding next month..."

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_Aaaannnnndddd... they're off! More to come..._


	2. Taking Names

_**DISCLAIMER**: Characters and situations in this story borrowed from Dark Angel and NCIS. No profits made._

_**A/N:** Thanks to everyone reading, and a special thanks for the comments & encouragement! Any and all input solicited and welcomed – those of us on this end of FFN can't tell what you're thinking about what you see here unless you tell us! _

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**PORTLAND, OREGON: March 14, 2020; 12:02 p.m.  
Portland Metropolitan Exposition Center**

Cheers and whistles bounced around the large, open expo center hall for several minutes after the final buzzer, as family and friends stormed the court, congratulating the winners and commiserating with the losers. Logan was pumped; he was winded and exhausted from the effort of the second half, he was drenched and drained...

... and ecstatic: his team, a newcomer in the more formalized, less street-tough tournament play, had just managed to defeat last year's runner up to make it to the regional finals. _Well, we managed to clean up for the proper game, after all,_ Logan grinned to himself. The noise from the players around him was nearly deafening; he felt the sudden spray of sticky sparkling cider someone had sneaked onto the playing floor, and he looked around again for Max and the others...

When he'd looked for her in the second half, Logan saw that she'd been joined by a woman he was sure he'd not met before. Soon she was talking with Bling and Sandra, then later, back again with Max. There was even a time, while he was at the sidelines as another player rotated in, allowing him a drink and a few minutes rest, that Max gave the camera to Bling and engaged in conversation with this stranger, both women looking over at him several times and grinning. Curiosity nearly shook his mind from the game. He knew Max was careful and knew how to keep herself safe, and could certainly more than handle herself in just about any situation. But it just wasn't like Max to so quickly fall into such a long discussion with someone she didn't know. Maybe she _had_ met the woman at a practice or another game. A friend or relative who visited before, Logan reasoned, and he just didn't remember her ...

There! Logan found Max as she waved at him again, determined to get the victory celebration on film, and she mimed for him to wave for the camera. He mugged, and gestured for her to join him on the court. She finally started to make her way over, but not before finding – and bringing along – her newly found friend. _At least I'll learn what's up with it all,_ he speculated...

"You were great!" Max pushed her way over to the sweaty, beaming man and leaned in for a kiss, savoring the salty taste of his lips. "Those other guys had no prayer..."

"Not bad for a bunch of raggedy street players," Logan beamed in agreement, speaking as Max broke the kiss. Seeing Max so excited over a basketball game, so happy for him, sent Logan's elation through the roof. "You believe all this?" He tipped his chin toward the muddle of players and well-wishers.

"Never doubted it for a minute." Max promised. _Happy Logan_, she mused to herself, taking in the sparkling green eyes and dimpled grin. _So hot..._ She shook away the thought, knowing there'd be plenty of time with him later, and anticipating the surprise he was about to get.

"Did you get it all on tape?" Logan was asking, his hand lingering on her back from their kiss.

"Most of it – and what I missed, she got." Max's grin widened, nodding sideways to the woman Logan managed to notice again, who still waited beside her. "Logan – say hi to Barbara."

"Hey – " Logan looked at the woman, dressed casually, but in clothing he recognized as expensive and elegant, and who seemed nonetheless delighted to be there, amid the chaos and sticky spray. Feeling a bit awkward that he couldn't place her, Logan offered his hand, then hesitated, apologizing, "I'm afraid I'm pretty grungy..."

She shook her head as she took his hand, firmly. "You ought to be, as hard as you played – what a great game! Besides – what's a little sweat between cousins-in-law?" As he stared, the unexpected reference taking him a moment to process, she laughed, "Logan, I'm Barbara Ott – Tony's fiancée..."

Logan's eyes suddenly lit up, as he did all he could not to tear his eyes away from her to look around the hall, in hope of seeing his "big cuz" there. "Barbara – what a surprise; it's ... it's great to meet you." Unable to wait any longer, he asked, "Did ... is Tony here too?" He blinked, unbelieving.

"I'm sorry, Logan, but he got called out on a case, at the very last minute, and it killed him not to come." The woman's clear blue eyes held memory of Tony's disappointment – and understanding for Logan's. "We were on the way to the airport, when he got called away. If it had been only two hours later, he would have been in the air, phone off." She gestured with her video camera, and explained, "there was no reason I couldn't still come, and I figured I could at least come tape the games for him – and meet the two of you, before the wedding."

Logan's disappointment that Tony wasn't there was quickly replaced by the awe he felt, knowing his cousin had been so ready to come see him play and would have been there for him, had he not been called in to work – and knowing that Barbara still made the trip, alone, all for Tony – and for them. "You came all this way, just for a couple basketball games..." Logan's voice, and expression, carried his amazement. In that moment, he began to believe that Tony just might have found a woman with a heart generous enough to deserve him ...

She smiled knowingly. "Tony's had an effect on me."

"And I suspect you've had one on him, too," Logan finally grinned. "Look, we need to find some time to talk. Are you staying for tomorrow's game too?" The hope in his eyes was genuine.

"Wouldn't miss it," Barbara promised.

_Tony **has** had an effect,_ Max started to believe, watching them. _She really is enjoying herself, and that's good. But Barbara's here because Tony couldn't come,_ Max suspected, _and because he couldn't be here for Logan, she came in his place ... to remind Logan how much he was loved ... and as an act of love of her own, for the man she loves. _Max felt the same little prickle of emotion that had made her eyes well up at another Cale cousin's wedding, not so very long ago...

"...then we can get together, this afternoon, maybe," Logan suggested, enthusiastic, as he glanced from Barbara to Max, and back again. "This evening, too; everyone's meeting for dinner and you can join us," his words tumbled. "Where are you staying?"

"The Hilton – same as you." She chuckled as she admitted, "Tony checked around and was able to find out where you'd made your reservations."

Max watched the delight dancing in Logan's eyes as the two spoke, and felt again that sense of happiness for him she'd felt since they'd left Seattle. She'd always thought _she _craved a sense of belonging, a desire for family, but she'd come to suspect – especially after seeing how important Tony was to him – that Logan might feel it even more keenly than she did. He'd looked so completely surprised and touched that someone would want to make such an effort, just for him ...

_What the hell kind of family leaves someone with such a terrible feeling of worthlessness? Or of being so alone?_ Max seethed, defensive for him, and not for the first time. _At least he's getting the chance to see how many people really care about him ..._ her thoughts included Bling and Sandra, coming up beside her after talking with the other team members, to watch Logan getting to know his cousin's future wife.

"Barbara, have you met..." Logan turned toward his therapist and the teacher beside him.

"Bling and Sandra? We met," Barbara assured him, smiling over to the couple. "We talked a little bit during the game – but_ only_ during time-outs," she corrected, grinning.

"Spoken like a true sports fan," Bling chuckled.

"Or someone used to being around one," Sandra suggested, knowingly. Logan beamed at the thought.

Barbara's smile softened just a little. "I'm really sorry Tony couldn't be here, too, Logan," her voice carried her honest regret for events as she looked back at him. "He was so excited about coming out here to surprise you..."

"It would have been great..." Logan admitted, wistfully, but quickly showed her a genuine, dazzling smile to add, "but this way, we can get to know each other – and swap Tony DiNozzo stories – without his interrupting to try to explain away the good parts."

With a nod and a grin, the future Mrs. DiNozzo pronounced, "Sounds like a great way to spend the weekend."

**GREATER PORTLAND, OREGON: March 14, 2020; 12:35 p.m.  
I-5, en route to Hilton Hotel, Vancouver, Washington**

"Logan – when we get back, I need to give you about an hour." Logan glanced at Bling, sitting up front beside him in the passenger seat as he drove the foursome back to the hotel, and the therapist saw the beginnings of the old, prickly Logan appear as he turned back to watch the road. "I saw you working your shoulder, near the end there," Bling prodded, his initial surprise giving way as it occurred to him why Logan was trying to avoid the deep tissue massage that Logan must know he needed. "An hour, I'll undo what you did to it this morning, and you'll be good tomorrow."

"No, look, Bling: I'm fine – and _your_ shoulder isn't 100 per cent yet." Logan tried reminding Bling of his recent surgery to remove a bullet and repair the damage it had done. "And you need to see some of the others – I think Corey pulled something..."

"I think maybe _you're_ trying to pull something, Logan," Max muttered as she slid forward on her seat behind Logan, sharing the same suspicions Bling had. _He wants to talk with Barbara... he wants every minute he can get to get to know her, and to feel closer to Tony for it._

"I'll just do some stretching, tonight." Logan nodded, as if Max hadn't spoken and his resistence was successful, as if it was decided. "Max can help..."

"My shoulder is fine; and you know I know how to work around it," Bling assured his charge. "..._and_ I'll see Corey and the others. But you're number two on the list, Logan. You need to give me an hour; otherwise, _you_ won't be 100 percent."

"Why is he at the top of the list, Bling?" Max looked over toward the trainer, not giving Logan a chance to voice another weak excuse, and watched his expression, concerned. She knew Bling assessed the players for problems or injury as they played, making a mental list of which of them was more in need of repair than others. Had he seen something she'd missed?

Bling glanced at his stubborn employer, whose expression had darkened into a familiar, balky expression, and decided to enlist Max in his approach. "Near the end of the first half, he started favoring his left shoulder – close enough to halftime he got some rest, and it wasn't too bad in the second half. But near the end of the game it started bothering him again. It's going to stiffen and be pretty sore tomorrow if we don't get to it – and he might push it and end up with some lasting injury, either by adding to the strain from today or straining a different portion by guarding the injured part. And given that he needs his shoulders full time, away from the court, unlike some of the others, and ..."

"...and he's here in the car with you, and his ears work fine," Logan interrupted before Bling could remind them all he wasn't the youngest player on the team, either.

"Don't know about his head, though; his common sense seems to have been affected, too," Max muttered, glancing up at the rearview mirror to see the green eyes make contact with hers in a brief glance, before returning to the road. "It would make a big difference in his play, too, wouldn't it?"

"No question." Bling pronounced.

The car was quiet for only few moments before Logan finally grudged, "Thirty minutes."

"Forty-five," Bling relented, "and not a minute less."

"Sold." Max closed discussion, sitting back against the seat again, folding her arms with finality. "What time, Bling? Does it matter, so his shoulder doesn't stiffen up?"

Bling glanced toward Logan as he replied, managing to hide his smirk at hearing Logan's soft snort of indignation. _Nice try, Logan,_ Bling thought. _You're not fooling anyone – Max fussing over you is a part of the package you've wanted for a very long time... _"Well, the earlier the better – but it might be more effective after a good, hot shower. It's 12:40 now..." Glancing at his watch, he suggested, "How about 1:30?"

Bling looked back up to Logan, waiting. After a couple moments of silence in the car, Logan glanced back at his friend and feigned a look of surprise. "Oh – were you asking me? Because you two seemed to be doing just fine without me..."

"I'll take that as a 'yes,' then." The ever-unruffled Bling allowed a smile to creep along the corner of his mouth. "Dinner isn't until 6:30 anyway. You'll have a good part of the afternoon to get together with Barbara, if you like. And she's joining us for dinner, I heard."

Logan couldn't hold out anymore, and his prickliness evaporated immediately into a grin as he nodded. "Yeah. She seems great, doesn't she? And she came all this way, just for the games..."

_...even when Tony couldn't,_ Max reflected, knowing Logan must be thinking of that again, too. _It would have been enough for her to fly across the country,_ _with Tony, just to watch Logan play, but to come anyway, without him ... when they'd have been none the wiser, if she'd canceled..._

"Seems like your cousin found a woman worthy of him." Bling offered, softly... and Logan beamed.

"Yeah..." he agreed, softly. "Way to go, Tony..."

**GREATER PORTLAND, OREGON: March 14, 2020; 1:23 p.m.  
Hilton Hotel, Vancouver, Washington**

The shower had been off for about ten minutes, but even so, when Logan opened the door to emerge from the bathroom, boxers only, squeaky clean, the warm, moist, soap-and-shampoo scented air rolled out into the room where Max sat, reading. "Mmmm..." she purred, unfolding from the chair to come close, unable to resist the lure of the broad, bare chest before her. "What time did Bling say he was coming up?" she murmured, sliding into Logan's lap, and drawing her palms up across the strong planes of his torso.

Logan rolled his eyes, his effort at feigning disapproval completely overridden by the still-stunning, still-dawning realization that Max craved _him,_ maybe nearly as much as he wanted her, and overcome even more fully by the immediate sensations of her touch, her mouth taking his... "any minute now..." His soft response was muffled by the effect of his speaking while they were nibbling each others' lips. "Your timing stinks..." he muttered, his arms around her, pulling her close.

"You just took too long in the shower," she replied, her kiss distorted by her grin at their words.

"Says the Hot Water Queen of Seattle." Logan chuckled, as they pulled apart only a few inches. "Did you and Barbara figure out this afternoon?"

Max nodded. "Since we're having dinner in the hotel tonight, we decided to get out of here for a while. The guy at the front desk told us about a couple good places in the area, and we found one where we can get a decent lunch while we talk..."

_And I can get in_, Logan thought, knowing she'd have checked that out, too. _Max has gotten so adept at keeping those things in mind..._ "Sounds good," he said, looking a bit regretful at the sudden knock at the door. Max uncurled from his lap.

Crossing over to the door, Max opened it and gestured for Bling to come in. "I held him down for as long as I could, Chief, but the prisoner is getting restless," she reported, with a suggestive smirk.

Bling took one look at the completely relaxed, contented expression on the man before him, and drawled, "yeah, I can see that. Good thing I didn't get here a few minutes later." He quirked an eyebrow at Max, yet again enjoying the fact that the couple was finally enjoying the sort of relationship he had promised Logan was still possible for him, injury notwithstanding. As he came in, moving toward the bed to lay out a folded therapy "table," allowing a padded but firmer surface for his work, Bling tried, "if it wasn't for that shoulder, Logan, I'd ask if this was a bad time."

With a quick glance up to Max, Logan looked back to this therapist to grunt, "Not like you listened to me before." He watched as Bling unfolded a sheet he'd brought with the table and covered it, smoothly. _Road therapy,_ he mused again, as he had the week before...

"Let's start with you seated." Bling turned to face Logan, clearly announcing the start of the session. Max leaned over to a nearby table to pick up the cell phone Logan had finally thought to give her, her hotel key card, and a slim cash-card folder.

"You boys have fun," she straightened, sliding folder in her pocket and grabbing her jacket from the chair. "I'll be back in forty-five..."

Max closed the door behind her and set off down the hall, no real plans or destination in mind, just grabbing the opportunity for a little private time, just herself and her thoughts. She passed up the elevator for the stairway and effortlessly bounced down the several flights, crossing the lobby to walk out into the afternoon sunshine. Feeling freer than she ever had, for as long as she could remember, Max wondered at the thought. _Being in a new place, where no one expects me to be, with a group of normal, friendly people ...with Logan, convinced that I'm just as human as any of them, human enough to hold ... to love ... maybe **this** is what it feels like, not to have a Black Ops agency looking for your ass... Maybe it will feel this good in Washington, next month..._

She headed off toward the park across the street, still attractive even if a bit untended in the current economy. Washington might be the center of the government that had made her possible – and made her early years hell – but she'd never heard about any Manticore-related projects that far east, and any news she'd heard about her sibs kept them in the Pacific Northwest, like her, or across the border in Canada. _In the hope that we'd hook up again, as it was for me? Coincidence? Lack of a better idea, not straying too far from where we started? Or something Manticore planted deep inside us, as a way we'd stay together – or a way we might be more easily tracked...?_

_Whatever,_ Max shook off the thought as she shoved her hands in her jacket pockets and strode off onto the park, with a strong, confident stride. Washington might just be Manticore-free after all. _Just as Logan's said, it would be easier to hide in a city full of people, coming and going ... and if no one expects us to be that far away ... it just might be a **very** comfortable place to be..._

_**xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo**_

_**TBC...**_


	3. Thinking Ahead

**DISCLAIMER**: Characters and situations in this story borrowed from Dark Angel and NCIS. No profits made.

_**xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo**_

**GREATER PORTLAND, OREGON: March 14, 2020; 2:15 p.m.  
Hilton Hotel, Vancouver, Washington**

Cheeks slightly pink from the cool spring gusts buffeting her on her walk, Max came up the hotel steps and into the hall just in time to see Bling nearing the stairway.

"Patient cooperative?" She asked, winsomely. He laughed.

"Well, he certainly didn't fight it. In fact, I think he missed most of it. He was beat, from the game, and the shower just helped make him drowsy. He was nearly asleep within the first couple minutes he stretched out, and was more unconscious than conscious during the whole session." Bling shifted his bag up to his shoulder, and added, "he's still conked out, probably completely dead to the world by now."

"He didn't sleep too well last night, either." At the mild concern she saw raised in Bling's questioning gaze, she laughed softly, shaking her head and easing his worry. "Too excited about the game."

Bling smirked. "Well, he might be a bit too wound up again tonight to really relax, but after tomorrow he'll be fine," he predicted. "What time were you two going to meet Barbara?"

"3:00. Think he'd kill me if I moved it back to 3:30?"

Bling chuckled. "He was awfully anxious about getting to spend some time with her." He glanced at his watch. "Actually, thirty minutes might be better – he'd probably be more groggy after an hour. Wake him at 2:45 and entertain Barbara if he runs a bit over."

Max smiled slowly. "You're awfully good at this."

The man smiled, quietly. "Sort of comes with the territory," he minimized.

Max's expression softened and, in that moment, Bling could see that part of Max she tried to hide, the part where she worried for Logan, for his safety and his health and his happiness, hidden because she worried just as much that Logan would mistake her concern as being solely related to his injury and resulting paralysis. "Bling..." she was asking. "Is there really a problem with his shoulder? Should he be playing tomorrow?"

The beautiful face was drawn in concern as she imagined how hard a shoulder injury would be for him, and Bling immediately spoke to put her mind at rest. "We're catching it before it becomes a problem," he assured her. "His shoulder strength is just fine, so I don't think there's an RC tear or any other serious injury in there. I worked on it and it feels pretty healthy now, and I reminded him of what he can do to warm it up before the game, and to keep it loose and not re-injure it. He'll be fine for tomorrow. When he's back home he can go a bit easier on it for a couple days."

She looked relieved, and nodded, "good." She looked back up and he saw, rare for her, a look that revealed just how much it still bothered her that she couldn't protect him from all the world's dangers, including those that still plagued him as a result of the bullet she always thought she should have prevented. "Thanks, Bling. For everything." She hesitated, then added, "especially, for him."

His sanguine smile softened, and he nodded, reaching out to give her arm a gentle squeeze. "Enjoy your afternoon with Barbara," he said, moving on again toward the stairway door. "We'll see you tonight, at dinner."

"Yeah," she called after him, softly. "Later." She stood in place only another brief moment before turning to walk toward their room, slowly. That familiar feeling nudged her again, the one she'd carried, even long before she and Logan had admitted their feelings for each other. It was her sense of helplessness that, along with the threats and dangers in Logan's life that she was made to handle, like explosives or kidnappers or assassins, there were as many in his life for which she was completely unequipped: his body's whacked out nervous system, his family's whacked out abuse of him ...his own whacked out need to save the world ... _it isn't fair. He works so hard to compensate with what's left to him that his body rebels at having to do double its normal share..._

She unlocked the room door and opened it, quietly. Walking in, she found Logan stretched long on the bed, on his stomach, as oblivious to the world as Bling said he'd be. A soft smile played at her lips as she studied him in his sleep, as she often did. He looked so different now than he did in past months, when exhaustion forced him to sleep, when the adrenalin of a frustrating case or the many pots of coffee just couldn't keep him going anymore and he had to stretch out on his couch for an hour or two grudgingly given. Then, he'd sleep poorly, fitfully, tossing and shifting, as if impatient to get back to save the world.

In contrast, the form before her was completely motionless except for his gentle breathing, his lips parted slightly and his brow clear, his near arm dangling off the bed and his far one stretched in abandon across the sheets. Again she was reminded of a child, playing hard and sleeping deeply. She moved closer, admiring his toned form and even smirking a bit at the new bruises beginning to bloom on his bicep and forearm. "Defensive injuries," he would boast proudly when he found them. _Logan Cale, protector of all that is good and true,_ she'd once called him. _And now I can add defender of the ball and the great shot ... _

She sighed, and crossed the room to lift the book she was reading, plop back down in the overstuffed armchair, and wait to wake Logan for their late lunch with Barbara. She stared at the cover and its title. _Kinesiology_. Bling had borrowed it from the hospital library, for her, after several unrelated discussions they'd had. _Leave it to Bling to put two and two and two together_, she mused ... from her occasional questions to him, quietly, about Logan's health and what was normal for him now, what needed special care and what worked just as it always did ... to Bling's – and Logan's – questions to her about her own plans and interests, whether she wanted to do something with her life other than just deliver packages for Normal, their offers to help if she did ... to her own restless worry that she find something to fill those extra hours that were hers when everyone else was sleeping, for fear that otherwise, she would find life with any 'normal' human being stifling, even life with Logan, for all the time she'd spend waiting for him to recharge, with sleep...

_Kinesiology_. It was the second medical text Bling had brought her. Sparing Logan's embarrassment, she read the first one, a neurology textbook about spinal cord injury, in secret, and as carefully as if she was preparing to do surgery herself. She had learned, probably in more detail than even Bling had in his own studies, what Logan's spinal cord, as well as the rest of him, was doing before, during, and after its sudden shredding by Bruno Anselmo's bullet. While incredibly informative, the text wasn't all that practical, and after that book, Bling brought her one more like those from his own classes about rehabilitation and maintenance for an SCI patient. Specific and practical, it armed her with plenty of information and actually allowed her to relax a bit: knowing the signs and symptoms, what was noteworthy and what could be ignored, made Max far more comfortable than just trusting Logan to always notice – or to be fully honest – about what was going on with him.

And the mix of the information she'd learned from those books, along with the personal knowledge she had about what a revved up girl could do, made her curious about biomechanics, physiology, and all the factors that played into human movement. It took barely a mention in Bling's presence before he'd found her this book. _Looking out for me... and in doing so, looking out for Logan? _From her reading of the rehab book and knowing of the years of experience he'd had, Max suspected Bling had worried about the boredom factor for her even before she'd thought about it. _He knows I have a lot more hours in my day than anyone else has ... and even Crash eats up only a few extra ones, while Logan is working or sleeping... _

She opened the book where she'd left off, the material keeping her mind engaged. Reading was certainly not the answer to fill all of her free time, and she couldn't really imagine that this home medical study would go much of anywhere to take her out of Jam Pony, as Bling seemed to be suggesting. But for now, she was learning, she was arming herself to be there for Logan, whatever he needed ... and she felt the love and care extended to her from Logan's most trusted friend. _And all that,_ she thought with a private smile, _was just about as much as a girl could ask for a Saturday afternoon..._

**GREATER PORTLAND, OREGON: March 14, 2020; 2:45 p.m.  
Hilton Hotel, Vancouver, Washington**

"Hey, Rip Van Winkle..."

The gentle, liquid sound of Max's voice penetrated Logan's thoughts as he felt her kiss the back of his neck, softly. Without opening his eyes, his mouth drew up into a grin, enjoying the moment. "Mmm..." he managed.

"Lunch with Barbara in fifteen – you gonna make it?"

His brows drew down immediately in muddled memory, wondering where the time had gone. "Fifteen minutes?" He blinked his eyes open, lifting his head from the pillow.

"Yeah – Bling pretty well put you to sleep." Max shifted to come into his view, kneeling by the bedside now. "Wanna get going, or should I call her and move it back a bit?"

"No – I'm up." Logan-in-stubborn-mode appeared, and he pushed up onto his elbows to flip onto his hip, then sat, still bleary. Max grinned.

"How ya feel?" She watched him fight his grogginess to get out of bed and start making his way toward the bathroom. "Your shoulder feel better?"

She saw him flex it a bit and smile, still able to be surprised at just what magic Bling could do. "Yeah, a lot better. Bling's good," he grinned, appearing to wake a bit more as he disappeared behind the closed door.

"You should tell him that," she called to him from the other side.

"I do," he retorted.

"Yeah, right." Max's voice drawled in sarcasm, but her expression was still one of affection for the prickly super-hero. She turned back to the book she'd left open, reading for another several minutes as Logan got ready to go.

It wasn't too long. Emerging from the bathroom, Logan reached into the closet, barely stopping, to grab a pair of cargoes he'd hung there, then crossed over to the drawer where they'd thrown some of their clothes and pulled out a sweater and socks. Awake enough now to be in a rush, wanting to make it on time, he dived inside his sweater, unfurled his socks to put them on, then started pulling on his pants. "Hey Max, where'd my shoes go?"

Max looked around the floor and, lifting his 'street' shoes, asked, "these?"

"Yeah." As much as he was hurrying, the clock at the bedside table already showed 3:01.

Max came around the bed and lay his shoes on the table beside him. "Look, I can go down and meet her, and just say you were held up..." Max offered, standing before him in classic Max-pose, hip cocked out to the side.

"No, Max; I don't want her to think..." he trailed as he pulled on a pant leg, not finishing the thought as he pretended to focus all his attention on his task.

_...that you're incapable? That your injury has slowed you down?_ Whatever it was, Max knew the gist of it. "She won't – I'll just say you got a phone call. Would you rather make her wait by herself?"

Logan sighed, pausing to look up at Max in some discouragement to grudge, "Okay. I'll only be another couple minutes."

She nodded and crossed over to kiss him. "I know. My fault anyway, for not waking you sooner. But you looked so cute, all pooped out like that."

As she straightened, she saw his expression shift again to a hopeful amusement as his eyes followed her movements. "'Cute,' huh?" he allowed.

"No one cuter." She picked up her phone and wallet again and headed to the door.

"Hey, Max?" he stopped her. When she turned, his eyes met hers. "Thanks."

She smiled, understanding, but shrugged it away. "See you downstairs."

The door shut behind her and for only a brief moment, Logan sat unmoving, reflecting. A slight smile began to dawn and he repeated to himself, quietly, "'cute'..." And with the word lingering in his mind and his smile broadening, he went back to pulling on his cargoes. _Lunch with Tony's new wife, _he remembered. _This will be interesting... _

**GREATER PORTLAND, OREGON: March 14, 2020; 3:05 p.m.  
Hilton Hotel, Vancouver, Washington. Lobby.**

Max came down into the lobby and saw Barbara, just as she was stepping off the elevator. "Sorry I'm late, Max," she apologized as she neared her.

"I just got here, and Logan got a call – he'll be another couple minutes, so you're not late at all."

Barbara relaxed into a smile. "You'll have to tell Tony. Between my job and his, one or the other of us is always behind."

_A perfect opening. How 'government' **is** she?_ Max wondered. "Tony may have told Logan when I wasn't around to hear – but you're with the Department of Health and Human Services?" When she nodded, Max tried innocence. "That's a pretty big place," she smiled, "which part?"

Logan had looked into it, of course, and had shared his homework with Max. Barbara Ott was the Assistant Secretary for Planning and Evaluation, described as the primary advisor to the Secretary of Health and Human Services for "policy development." That meant she oversaw legislation, planning and strategy for all the policies of the department, their coordination and implementation. It had looked like a huge job, and Tony had said that the thing that kept her energized was that finally, she was being tasked to find a way to bring direly needed services and programs back to the people, as the economy seemed to be growing healthier...

"The part which has to decide how we get back to keeping people healthy and human," she tried what clearly to her was an old joke, but at least less sad than before. "It's not so bad now, since the current Administration finally understands that there are a lot of people out there who need just a temporary boost, now and then, some basic health care or some help if a sudden illness springs up. We coordinate what laws are proposed, how funding is allocated ... we're front lines for seeing if we can get social services up at least to where they were, before the Pulse... and with luck, we might just fix the things that weren't working even before then, too."

Max's eyebrows went up. "That's some job."

"I have lots of great people in there with me, who are all adamant that we can turn things around," she replied. "All I have to do is keep the coffee on and patting them on the back, and they come up with brilliant ideas for us to pitch." As she spoke, the elevator doors opened and Logan appeared, coming toward them now from across the lobby. "They have a storehouse of ideas going that keep me convinced we can do it." Max noted the genuine look of hope in her eyes, and was willing to believe she was one of the good guys, someone who, like Tony, devoted her intelligence and skills to the service of her country in the expectation that her efforts would help those who were in need. _Sort of like Logan, aboveground,_ Max mused. _So maybe not everyone in government is like Lydecker, after all,_ she considered...

As Logan came up beside them, Max saw him turn on the charm with that engaging smile of his. "Hey, you two ... Barbara, I'm sorry I'm late..."

"You're not late; we just got here. Max said you had a call." As Barbara turned to Logan, her eyes seemed to light up even more. She smiled widely, and almost seemed to have to shake herself a little, uncharacteristically to what they'd seen so far, to add, "you had a chance to catch your breath, since I last saw you?"

He laughed, "yeah, and managed to clean up a little too." He looked to the two women, reading in Max's face that she trusted Barbara – liked her, too. He so much wanted to like this woman, so badly wanted her to be perfect, for Tony's sake...

...this woman who was still looking at him, _staring_, actually, unabashedly, eyes shining.

With only a slight blush of self-consciousness, Logan tried, "Max says you two found a place for lunch."

Barbara broke her stare to nod, a bit of a blush of her own there now too, to say "only a couple minutes away, by car. I have a car here, if you'd like me to drive...?"

"I can drive, if you don't mind a grungy ride." Logan pivoted slowly toward the garage as he spoke, leading the others to move along with him.

"You didn't see my rental," she chuckled. "The airport roads were pretty torn up."

Logan grinned to hear it. "Then let's get going," he started off toward the car. "Have you been to Portland before, Barbara?" he asked, the Cales' lessons for playing host slipping into his demeanor automatically.

"No, but I've been to Seattle a few times, a long time ago. My college roommate was from there and before the Pulse, I went out several times to visit her and her family."

"Really? Who was she?"

"Her maiden name was Callihan, Leslie Callihan?"

Logan shook his head, apologetically, and Barbara shrugged, "well, it's a big city. Her family owned one of the TV stations, and a restaurant downtown..."

"Ray Callihan?" Logan asked in surprise, as they neared his car.

"That was her brother; I think he took over for their dad..."

"I met him once. I worked for a local newspapers there for a while; he was a good friend of my editor."

"Well, see? Seattle isn't so big after all." Barbara beamed, stopping at the Aztek as the others did.

"Barbara, get in front with Logan," Max suggested. "I fold up pretty easily in back."

She nodded and went around to the passenger door, Max behind her, and they both crawled in as Logan got into the driver's side, quickly broke down his chair and stowed it behind him, Max helping by pulling in each piece as he slid it in. Putting his key into the ignition and starting the car, Logan was again aware that Barbara looked at him, and again, was nearly staring. He glanced up to see her react, caught.

"Logan – I'm sorry," she finally colored. "I've been gaping..."

He tried to smile but felt awkward, self-conscious. "It's okay," he murmured, managing to sound sincere, even though he was uncertain why she stared. _The chair, again?_ he wondered...

"I promised myself I wouldn't, even though Tony warned me, and vowed that I wouldn't say anything ... And I should know better; a couple of my best friends..."

Logan steeled himself._ "...were in wheelchairs, too?_" It wouldn't be the first time he'd heard it...

"...were identical twins, and they got so tired of hearing how much they looked alike, growing up. But, Logan, I never thought that the resemblance would be this strong..."

Logan blinked. _She's been staring 'cos I look like Tony? _He grinned as relief filled him. _Not the chair, just this crazy cousin thing... _he realized, happily. _She can take the chair, just not the face..._

"...and I just can't get over it..." she laughed. "I'm sorry. Especially after you showered off the effects of the game, and now, in that navy sweater, you look just like him..." She shook her head. "Honestly, I'm not usually so rude."

"But you probably don't usually run into look-alikes for Tony," Max helped.

Logan beamed. "It's not rude. And I could probably do a lot worse than looking like Tony, you know," he drawled, grinning, as he put the car in gear and started pulling out of the garage.

"Nothing whatsoever wrong with looking like Tony," Barbara beamed, and looked back to Max. "Or Tony looking like Logan. Right, Max?"

"Nothing wrong at all," Max agreed, smugly.

As he drove on, Logan listened as Barbara recounted Tony's warning that they strongly resembled each other, that he'd shown her the handful of pictures they'd managed on his recent trip to Seattle, along with some from when both were much younger. She pulled Max into the debate by asking her opinion of what made them so similar, and sparked further conversation by suggesting that they even sounded somewhat alike.

_Nice_, was Logan's early assessment,_ and easy going. Beautiful, too. She's engaging and affable; good for testy political debates, for mediating opposing viewpoints, or selling a particular line of thought. Or, _Logan reflected,_ for starting a life with an over-aged teenager who has one hell of a dangerous and time-consuming job..._

He joined their discussion, chuckling as Max told Barbara about her very first meeting with Tony. _Sometimes, there are happy endings, cuz,_ his cousin had told him, that last night they'd been together in Seattle. _The biggest mistake you can make is not recognizing them when they pop up in your life..._

And as he pulled up to the restaurant they'd found, listening to Barbara and Max discuss the men in their lives, Logan started to suspect that he now was seeing, first hand, how Tony found it so easy to believe that happy endings were possible...

_**xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo**_

**tbc.**

_A/N: Apologies that this is pretty uneventful installment and it's more internal and external yammering; it's just that the next segment ought to be posted intact, and if it were attached to this, the chapter would be far longer than the others that I have planned for this story. In addition, this segment ended up being much longer than I originally anticipated, what with Max's musings while Logan slept (sorry; it's a point that's been bothering me, which means I need to address it!) and a bit more stuff inspired by comments to earlier chapters... ;_

_At least the toad insists we keep plodding along... we'll get back to some interesting stuff soon!_

_-S-_


	4. Looking Back

_**DISCLAIMER**: Characters and situations in this story borrowed from Dark Angel and NCIS. No profits made._

_**A/N:** Again, thanks for reading and for any reviews or comments left here... especially during FFN's illness, it's helpful to know what I got right, got wrong, or just never got at all! Reviews let us poor scribblers know that **someone** is out there, still wanting to hear more of the tale..._

_And my thanks once again to Mari83, for a read-though and vote as to whether or not the sap has gotten too sappy yet..._

_**xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo**_

﻿**GREATER PORTLAND, OREGON: March 14, 2020; 3:27 p.m.  
'Peaches,' Vancouver, Washington**

Despite the questionable name and some initial awkwardness, Logan found that his afternoon companions had found a quaint, inviting place to have their late lunch: filled with ferns and other greenery, tables of every size, description and covering, and a couple fat cats sunning themselves in the front window, the small restaurant was a cozy, quiet place mid-afternoon with remarkably good appetizers and excellent – and endlessly refilled – coffee.

They'd arrived at the place to find the 'accessible' entrance off a pitted, dark, gloomy alley, leading inside to a narrow loading area blocked with cardboard boxes, crates, and other deliveries made during their normally slow time. But cheerful employees, full of comfortable apologies, swung into action as if they'd run into this problem – and patrons on wheels – with some frequency, and in only a moment, a path was cleared they could all negotiate. The friendly welcome made it easy enough to come in and get settled with coffee as they waited for their food, Barbara seeming to take it in stride almost as quickly as Max did. _Well, part of her job is to revisit the ADA, and in the car, Max had her talking about getting services up again and laws back in place,_ Eyes Only mused. _Maybe she ought to see some of the 'services' in Seattle..._

"I'm glad you two had some time to come out, so we could get better acquainted," Barbara began, as the waiter left the three with steaming cups of coffee and a basket of home-made breadsticks. "When Tony got back from seeing you last month he was full of stories, just like a six year old ..."

_Like cousin, like cousin,_ Max mused, smiling into her mug as she took a sip, _and like Tony to be the younger of the two. _ She watched as Barbara looked back to Logan, clearly already a connection there, probably assisted by how much he resembled her own 'little kid.'

"...the only way he stopped talking about you, Logan, was when he'd mention Max, or Bling, or your basketball team." Barbara included Max in her gaze as she mentioned her, but quickly turned back to Tony's cousin, and seemed to consider a moment, before speaking again. "I knew Tony for a good while before he ever admitted much about himself, or anything personal ," she confessed the private insights that she sensed would mean so much to Logan, "but when we got closer, and he started to open up more ... one of the first things he talked about was how close you two had been, how much he enjoyed spending time with you, and how he missed getting together with you in recent years. And then later, when he learned you'd been hurt..." her voice softened in memory, "he was devastated. He couldn't find a way to pick up the phone to check in with you, and even talked about just coming out to see you ... but ... I think he was afraid to face you when he couldn't offer any way to help you get back on your feet." Barbara had spoken evenly, looking at Logan steadily even though the topic was not a comfortable one. At her next thoughts, however, she was able to smile. "But coming out here with the excuse of working on the case gave him something he _could_ do, and there was no holding him back from coming out himself to find the killer. And then, when he found you doing so well, and surrounded by such great friends – it meant the world to him." Her expression made clear that she'd understood, very early on, just how important the cousins were to each other.

Logan nodded, eyes dropping away for a moment, needing the distance to swallow the emotions raised by Barbara's insight – and by the news of his cousin's reaction to his injury. After only that moment, though, he looked back up to offer in return, "you know, when he got here, he just ... came in, just like always, larger than life, and took it all in stride. You'd never have guessed his concerns, from his reaction, especially when he just strolled in my place as if nothing had changed."

Barbara laughed softly and nodded. "That sounds like Tony – playing goofy tough guy, to hide what's going on underneath." She sipped her coffee, then added, "his first weekend back, I heard more from him about family and growing up than I'd heard from him all together before then. He talked so much about you ... and about your family." She seemed again to consider her words before speaking, then said, "he spoke a lot about your mother. She must have been very special."

"She was." Logan said softly... and smiled. "And she was pretty much crazy about Tony, too. We both were. Over the years ... he's helped me keep the memory of my parents alive ... especially my mom."

Max took in the conversation with a quiet, growing respect for the woman offering yet another connection between Logan and Tony. She had no doubt that Tony might feel uncomfortable hearing his reactions laid bare as they'd been, and knew that, if she were in Barbara's place, she never would have thought to spill the nearly-intimate info Barbara had passed on to them just then. But clearly Barbara sensed that the knowledge would be important to Logan, and would serve to link the cousins even closer; in turn, Max was touched by how moved Logan had been to hear it all. And even more – her words led Logan, usually slow to reveal much of his family or his past even to friends, to offer Barbara a bit of insight in return about the man she would soon marry. The connection between them, Max could see, was mutual, with Tony as their bond... _Leave it to Tony to instigate a connection, even from the other side of the continent_ ... she felt herself smile...

They were interrupted by the waiter bringing their assorted appetizers and a stack of plates so they could share. As the food was set out and coffee refilled, Max looked over at Logan and saw, in the smile he returned for hers, that the emotional impact of the recent conversation stuck with him as he still weighed the images of Tony's reaction to what he'd found on his recent trip to Seattle. _He could use just a little more space,_ she decided, and took up the conversation so Logan could regroup. "I never got to hear how you and Tony met," she asked Barbara, now glad for all the girly sorts of conversations she'd not been able to escape with Kendra and Cindy around, try as she might. Barbara struck her as a fairly conventional sort of female, and though bright, insightful and sharp, she was still a woman soon to be married. Offered a chance to talk about the man she'd soon promise to have and to hold, it was a sure bet she'd take it. But even the cynic in Max was surprised to see her expression soften in tender memory, apparently triggered by the question.

"We first met in 2013," Barbara said softly, absently swirling the coffee in the mug she held now in both hands. "Gibbs – Tony's boss – had finally been kicked upstairs and Tony was a newly-minted team leader. There was a ... a terrorist splinter cell in Iraq that crossed the border into Kuwait, stormed the American embassy and took nearly eighty hostages, including the half dozen Marines posted there. The terrorists set up inside, even found a way to broadcast it all, including the torture, one after the next, of three of the Marine guards, before they were stopped." She paused, the images clearly painful, but familiar to her now, it seemed, easier to relate than they once must have been.

"Tony's team was included as a part of a larger extraction unit. The Ambassador wasn't there at the time ... but the Deputy Chief of Mission was." Her voice quieted a little. "My husband. His name was David Ott." Another pause, and she continued, composed. "Kuwait was a high risk placement, and David was in for only an interim six month rotation, as a favor to the Service. He went over alone, on this posting – our daughter was only eight at the time and it wasn't safe for families to be there..." Even now, it seemed that Barbara needed to explain why she wasn't there, with him – why her husband was alone.

The next moment, though, she sighed, and continued, "I didn't learn, right way, everything that happened, but a day or so after the siege was over ... after they telephoned, to tell me that David had died ... Tony showed up at my door, unannounced. He identified himself, and said he'd been with David, those last hours. He wanted me to know that he'd been there, and that David had died a hero. I asked him in ... and told me how David had managed to negotiate the release of the first forty hostages or so, how he'd held things together..." Barbara smiled softly, "he left out the parts I had to hear later from Gibbs, about how David had been injured, after funneling out some more of the embassy employees, under their captors' noses ... how Tony made his way inside, found David and stayed behind with him, even managed to incapacitate the guard watching them and sneak by the others, got the both of them out ... and though David didn't make it to the hospital ... thanks to Tony, he didn't die a prisoner – or alone." She finally looked back up to Logan. "Tony was so serious when he was talking about it, haunted, almost. It was the first time he'd lost someone, as a team leader, and it seemed so important to him to let me know about all David had done ..." Again, a small smile played her lips. "He'd been there, maybe an hour, when my daughter came home – and he was so kind to her. He told her he'd been with her father when he died and how brave he was ..." Barbara lingered over the memory for another moment, to add, "and then ... he left. He came to David's funeral, and ... I didn't hear anything more from him. A few months later, I heard that NCIS was giving Tony a commendation for his actions at the embassy, so Kasey and I went. He never showed up – Gibbs had to accept the award for him." She shifted, and looked back up to the two with her. "I didn't see Tony again until last year."

Her audience sat silently, captivated: Max, imagining Tony as a soldier, trained and resourceful; Logan, imagining his cousin, once again, as a hero ... It was Barbara who gently broke the mood. She lifted her coffee mug, took a sip, and asked, softly, with a quiet smile, "aren't you supposed to ask how we hooked up again?'

Max joined her smile right away, but Logan was still processing, thoughts again wrapped around how dangerous his cousin's job could be – and how he probably minimized that fact to everyone in his life, just as he minimized his own bravery – and his compassion. In the next moment, though, Logan looked up to Barbara and said, "he said it was on the Hill – some hearings, when they were again debating whether or not to continue funding NCIS as a separate agency." Logan managed to relax a little as he remembered, and his own smile began to appear. "He said you saved the day.

Barbara grinned, mood lifting a little now, and shook her head. "I wish I had that sort of influence." She paused as the waiter came by again with more coffee, and then said, "I'd read about the hearings coming up, so wheedled my way in – I phoned in a couple favors and managed to be listed as one of the witnesses. He won't admit it, but I suspect when Gibbs saw the list, he decided that a certain one of his people needed to make an appearance at about the same time, so ... Tony 'happened' to be in the gallery when I was speaking. I just wanted the committee to know what NCIS had done, for the hostages, for David, the assistance they added that the regular extraction team wasn't prepared for. I didn't know Tony was there until afterwards," she remembered, "but at the break, after I was done ... he came over. He was all serious again, almost like he'd been when he came out to see me. I could see that, even after all that time, he was still troubled by the fact that he hadn't been able to get David back alive, and I ... I just wanted him to know that I understood. So I insisted on buying him coffee, and we talked ... and he left."

Barbara took a sip of her coffee, seeing that Max and Logan were still watching, apparently rapt by her tale, so continued, "I went to watch the hearings the next day and saw him testify; I approached him again to thank him and ask if there was anything I could do to help with the hearings, and he said no ... and as we were leaving I asked if he was having lunch, and he ... sort of gave in, it seemed. He wouldn't let me buy. I didn't hear back from him after that – again – and ... it bothered me, because I felt as if I was chasing him," she admitted, with a chuckle. "But those few moments that he would relax and talk and laugh, I ... I really _liked_ him. I had so appreciated what he'd done, before, both for David and for coming to see me afterward, but now ... I wanted to get to know the Tony lurking under all the seriousness ... ... I wanted just a chance to see him again. So, when the vote came through the next week to keep the funding status quo, I ... called him."

Max saw that even now, Barbara laughed with a small, self-conscious blush for pursuing the good- looking agent. She continued, "I asked him if there was going to be any sort of reception or celebration, for the news. He said that he hadn't heard about any, and was just ... quiet, on the other end. He didn't really say anything encouraging, but didn't hang up, either. And I blurted out that I thought he'd been smart and funny and sensitive, and so very kind and thoughtful, but that if he was seeing anyone or wasn't interested, I still appreciated all he'd done."

Logan's eyes widened but said nothing, intrigued that, with this woman, Tony had been the one to be shy and reluctant. _Just the circumstances,_ he wondered, _or more? Something telling him she was special, from the start? Or both?_

Max grinned, amused by yet another similarity between the cousins: _these good looking men, pretty glib and confident around women in their past, finding themselves in circumstances where they have to be prodded and wheedled into hooking up? What would they do without us?_ she thought, amused by the sudden knowledge that she and Barbara had each been impatient enough to make the first move with the Cale cousins. Glancing meaningfully at Logan, her genuine interest in Barbara's story would have made Kendra proud. "And so he _was_ interested..." she helped, looking back to the woman with them.

Barbara's smile was again the easy, centered one they'd first seen. "He said he'd thought about calling, after that first day of hearings, but didn't want to 'take advantage' of how we met." Her appreciation for Tony's sense of decorum, even if unnecessary, was evident. "I reminded him that David had been gone a while ... and told him that, under the circumstances, I thought David would approve." Barbara looked at the couple across from her and colored slightly, "oh, look, I ... I thought was coming here to get to know you two, and I haven't given you a chance to get a word in edgewise..."

But Max shook her head immediately. "You're talking about one of Logan's favorite subjects – his favorite cousin."

"Well, I'm sorry to have monopolized things," she apologized, looking to them both.

"We're not," Logan grinned, "because we wanted to get to know _you_. And I'm glad to know Tony is in such good hands." The smile on his face, all charm, was pure DiNozzo. Barbara laughed.

"Oh, is that look familiar," she laughed, and lifted her napkin. "No question that you two are related." She shifted and, with an apologetic sound, she tipped her head across the restaurant. "If you'd excuse me ... too much coffee," she laughed, standing. "Be right back."

"Sure." Logan watched her cross the restaurant and, when she'd moved out of earshot, he leaned closer to Max and, pleased for the unexpected moment alone, asked, intently, "So what do you think?"

"She's nice," Max opined, reaching for an appetizer and popping it in her mouth. "Smart, interesting – and she seems to really care for Tony, a lot." She looked over the plates and, taking advantage of Barbara's absence to take another appetizer when she – and her hearty appetite – wouldn't be quite so obvious, Max chose another and took an appreciative bite.

Logan seemed to relax with her assessment, relieved. "You can tell all that?"

Max finished her bite and brushed her hands on her napkin. "Well, yeah," she confirmed, mildly surprised at his words. "Can't you?

He shrugged, "I wasn't sure how much was real and how much I was hoping, for Tony, she was as great as she seems..." He fiddled absently with his empty mug, still unwilling to trust happy endings so readily.

"Logan, I know you're usually the one to dig into people's lives and decide if there's some ulterior motive behind every smile – but like Tony said, like, once a day, while he was here – you forget what he does for a living. He may be in love but he's going to check her out; he'd have to, the kind of work he's in." Max smirked and added, "You'd do it," she grinned as he opened his mouth to protest and she cut him off with her words, "don't tell me you wouldn't, even the romantic in you would give in to your curiosity." Max grinned with her point scored, then added, "I think she's the real deal. Not someone I would have guessed for Tony, though," she mused.

"I know." Logan looked back to her, and shrugged, "maybe that's partly why I wasn't sure if I was reading in more than was there."

Max smiled softly at his concern, and reached over to take his hand, squeezing it affectionately. "She's real, Logan – and she loves Tony and will be good for him."

With her touch, Logan managed to relax a bit more, and smiled for her. "Almost as good as you are, for me?"

"Oh, now, _that_ would be almost too much for anyone to ask, wouldn't it?" Her eyes twinkled for him, lighting even more as he lifted her hand to his lips, an affectionate brush across her knuckles followed by a dimpled smile.

﻿ 

He was still smiling at her when Barbara returned, and though his attention turned back to Tony's fiancee, he continued to hold Max's hand, lightly, subtly, on the table. Barbara noted it with a private smile of her own, tucking it away to tell Tony, even as the conversation turned to the present conditions in Seattle...

**GREATER PORTLAND, OREGON: March 14, 2020; 7:55 p.m.  
Hilton Hotel, Vancouver, Washington**

"Hey– everyone– everyone!" The chatter around the dinner table quieted and the team's captain began speaking. "I have a couple things to say."

As some of the team members hooted their opinions in response, Max glanced at Logan, almost unrecognizable as he laughed, relaxed and happy, surrounded by friends, with Bling and Sandra across from him and Barbara on his other side. _Hold on to this, Logan,_ she whispered, mentally, _for the dark times that may try to come again ... hold on to this and remember you're loved ... and how much you love life at this moment... _

As if he heard her, Logan glanced at the beautiful woman by his side and, seeing her eyes on him and her tender smile, smiled his love for her. "Are you bored silly?" he asked in apology.

"No ... it's all been so worth it, getting away, hanging out with this crowd ... having Barbara here ... seeing you happy, like this..." She leaned in, close. "We should bottle it."

He looked into her eyes, appreciating the moment. "It's not basketball that has me happy, Max..." he vowed.

She smiled, taken with his words, but let her smile creep upward with the festivities around her. "the hell it's not," she murmured, grinning again, "but I don't mind competing, at least not through the tournament."

"Alright – alright," Corey was laughing. "Lemme get this over with and you can get on with dessert. First of all – great game, guys." The banquet room, of course, burst with whoops and applause and cheers from the players, their friends and family who'd made the trip. "We're not gonna make this a late night because we're gonna make sure everyone gets some decent sleep tonight. We want to wipe up the floor with these sissy college boys we're playing tomorrow – and Arron, Logan, Denny, BL – no offense, guys." There were more hoots all around from the rest of the team for those in their midst who were also, at one time, 'college boys.' "We have some people to thank tonight – for those of you who may not have heard – this great dinner is a gift from Logan. It's really appreciated, man..." The room again filled with applause and cheers, and Logan, cheeks warming, raised his wine glass in a sort of salute in return.

"BL," Corey said next, "as always, you're there to fix whatever we screw up, on the court, and we owe you a big thanks for that." Corey again waited for the applause and cheers to subside. "For those of you who don't know, we nearly didn't find a business to sponsor us, and it was something we really wanted, to prove we were a real team. Max, here, engineered it so that Jam Pony sponsored us through the tourney– _and_ she designed our cool logo. Max – take a bow."

Max's eyes grew wide and she blushed more than Logan had, never before singled out for her contributions to a group like this – _never before so much a part of a 'normal' life,_ Logan thought as he looked at her, joining the applause and cheers. As Corey went on to offer comments and thanks about others in the room who had donated time or effort to get them to this point, Logan couldn't take his eyes off Max, as she joined in the applause and laughter with the others around them. As she'd said on the trip home after the previous weekend's games, this was a whole new sort of life she was experiencing. Logan couldn't imagine her enjoying it for long, or living this suburban, PrePulse-like life by choice. But for this brief time, she had a taste of what it might have been like to be a normal, average, non-revved up woman – and at least for the short time they had for these weekends, she had actually kicked back and enjoyed pretending that the Pulse – and Manticore – never happened...

"And finally – most of you know we had a lot of help from Logan's cousin Tony in developing our offense and defense, these past few weeks. Tony couldn't make it – but Barbara...?" Corey looked over to find her, and grinned. "Barbara came all the way from DC to watch us play, because Tony couldn't get away from work. Thanks for coming – and please take him our thanks."

Even if she was in the public eye fairly frequently in her work, Barbara hadn't expected the recognition and, as applause carried around her, she smiled in surprise and delight at the words. She glanced over to Max and Logan, and a wistful note in her voice, said, "Tony's going to hate having missed this."

Logan nodded, ready to believe she was right, still pleased that his victories here meant enough to his cousin that he had tried to be here for the tourney. "Maybe this will just hurry him up for his next visit," he grinned.

Max looked at Logan's shining eyes, his bearing strong and confident with the excitement of the weekend; at Barbara, warm and sincere and ready to adopt Tony's cousin as her own. With the magic of the what the weekend had done for them all, Max lifted her wine glass toward the two and smiled her toast. "To Tony," she offered.

Two smiles beamed nearly as high with her words as DiNozzo's own. "To Tony," they chorused.

**GREATER PORTLAND, OREGON: March 14, 2020; 11:27 p.m.  
Hilton Hotel, Vancouver, Washington **

Logan's arms were warm around her, his soft breath warm as it tickled along her neck. _Spooning, _he'd called it, that first time. He hadn't seemed too surprised when she said she'd never heard of it, but in response, had pulled her closer, held her more tenderly. "If you like it, I'll spoon with you, Max, any time you say," he'd whispered then, the emotion thickening his voice, and she knew his thoughts just as clearly as if he'd said them.

_ Something else you must have missed, Max,_ he'd be thinking.

And in these short weeks, she reflected, she'd started to learn what she'd missed before, unwilling – _afraid_ – to open herself to a relationship, hooking up only when the fever and the insanity of being in Heat drove her to ravage whichever male was within arm's length when she couldn't resist any longer... Things like _this_; things like ... staying. Like _wanting_ to stay. Like really _sleeping,_ when you're 'sleeping' together ... Things like waking up to hear the oddly comforting sounds of soft, contended snoring from the warm form under the covers with her, at her side ... like waking up to the smell of coffee and breakfast ... like waking up to sneak out and make the coffee, so _he_ would wake up to its aroma ...

_ ...things like waking up, tucked together, like spoons in a drawer..._

Logan drew a deep breath, and as he exhaled, she felt his muscles relax a bit more. He wouldn't sleep too well tonight, but it was because he was excited, still wound up for tomorrow's game even after the pounding he'd taken that day, the deep tissue massage he'd gotten from Bling before dinner, their quiet, private hours of just unwinding together, after dinner, and the slow, soothing massage she'd given him before she slipped in beside him, in the dark. It wasn't like his previous nights when he couldn't sleep – or wouldn't sleep – because of his missions ... his darker moods ... or even when his body betrayed him with pain, still, because of the insult to his nervous system...

"Max..." he murmured sleepily. "Even if we don't win tomorrow... this all has been such a great few weeks. I'm glad you've been a part of it."

She snuggled deeper into his arms and whispered, "what do you mean, if you don't win?" They'd seen the other team play, the defending champions in this tournament for four years running, and knew it would be a challenge. But Logan seemed just as ready and eager to play, despite his words now, and at least recognized what he'd gained along the way. "You guys will mop up the floor with them."

"And we'll look great as we do." He chuckled, sleepily. "Max..."

When he didn't say anything more for long moments, she wondered if he'd fallen asleep. She lay drowsily herself, simply enjoying the feel and the scent of him, the safety she felt in his arms, the trust she had in him, in his knowing everything about her and not being repulsed or afraid of her... "I love you, Logan," she breathed, barely audibly.

His arms again flexed to press her back against his chest, and he softly nuzzled her hair. "You are ... without a doubt ... the most ... spectacular ..." Another long pause, but this time, Max thought she heard that it was as much his sweet, emotional reaction to the moment as his sleepiness. "I love you, Max."

She smiled into her pillow and pulled his arms even closer around her. "Get some rest, Champ," she whispered, savoring the moment. "You got another team to slaughter."

... in the dark room, their bed soft and inviting, as Logan drifted off, Max let herself appreciate the weekend once again for its comfort, its images of couple-hood and 'normal life' for them both, here in the pre-Pulse hotel, in surroundings Logan didn't give a second thought ... in watching him play basketball in a tournament that had come to mean so much to him ...

Max felt herself smile in the darkness. The funny thing was, it almost felt as if they were on a mission, just playing at domesticity and weekend-warrior sports. But they _weren't_ – this was _real_. This was _them._ They were a 'them.' They were 'like that.' Maybe the tournament would end, and they'd be back in Seattle; she'd be back on the bike and Normal back on her back ... but the domesticity would be there too; they'd still be a couple. Eyes Only would be on the job and she'd be in the streets. But they'd also be in Logan's penthouse, in each other's arms. Max was smack dab in the middle of the life she thought she'd never have: financially well off thanks to Logan ... loved, and in love ... thanks to Logan. Logan Cale, stronger even than Manticore, she thought drowsily, enjoying the hedonistic luxury of just lying in bed, safe and warm ... Logan Cale, stronger even than fate...

**_xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo_**

**TBC...**


	5. Closing In

**DISCLAIMER**: Characters and situations in this story borrowed from Dark Angel and NCIS. No profits made.

_**A/N:** Thanks to all of you for reading, but as always, an extra thanks to those of you who leave a comment or two. It really does help to know what works for you out there and what doesn't – after getting what's been floating around in my head out onto the screen, I honestly can't tell anymore! _

_**xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo**_

**GREATER PORTLAND, OREGON: March 14, 2020; 6:57 a.m.  
Hilton Hotel, Vancouver, Washington**

Logan wasn't sure what had awakened him, whether it was the sensation of having Max curled up, close, into his shoulder, or the sweet scents of her skin and hair freshly washed with the hotel's matching soap and shampoo ... or the warm, sensual kiss he'd begun returning, even before he was conscious...

He must have stepped up his own kissing or otherwise let her know he was rousing, because she smiled a little to pull back and murmur, "hey, champ." As he returned her smile, saying nothing but lifting a hand to weave his fingers through her hair and pull her forward, gently, back to him, she moved close to kiss him sweetly, deeply, for another few moments before she pulled away again to say, "this is your seven o'clock wake up call. Big game today."

Logan drew in a long, contented breath, never losing his smile for her. "Not for a while..."

Her grin was wicked. "I thought you athletes were supposed to lay off all that before the game, something about 'depleting the energy' or something."

"...old wives' tale," he countered smoothly before stealing another kiss, his tone the warm, confident, coaxing one of a Logan he thought he'd lost long ago.

"Maybe the old wives were just jealous, watching everyone else have all the fun," Max lifted an eyebrow. "But in your case... you'll be busy with breakfast in bed."

He beamed. "Now _that's_ what I like to hear." He scooped his strong arms around her and drew her close, his mouth hungrily seeking hers.

She chuckled, and half protested, "no; I mean..."

There was a knock at the door.

"... _really_, breakfast in bed." Max sat back up, her chuckle continuing.

"Room service," they heard from the other side of the door.

Logan looked up to see Max's winsome smile. "I wanted to surprise you," Max explained, "and have your coffee and breakfast waiting for you, so you could have a real breakfast in bed." She kissed him again lightly, pulled away from him regretfully, and added, "you probably would be better off stoking up your energy than depleting it."

Affecting a small frown at her logic, he grumped, "better, _how?" _Max laughed, and got up to retrieve their food. Heading toward her jacket to pull out some cash, she hesitated, suddenly remembering that all she needed to do was to sign for it and the cost would be added to their room bill. _What else do rich people have done for them?_ she found herself musing once again, remembering her vow that she wouldn't let this life change her, not with what was important. _Even with all the money he's had, Logan seems to have his head on straight – at least most of the time. He'll help me remember who I am._ She pulled out a few bills anyway and headed to the door. _The tip in cash will be a lot easier for the guy than trying to recover his share of a signature,_ she decided, the topic one with which she had a certain sympathy. She pulled the door open and met the kid with a grin. "Hey."

"Hey." The teenager's eyes moved up and down her form, involuntarily, and grew wider with his smile in return, watching as Max lifted the leather folder from the tray as she'd seen Logan do the day before. She signed at the bottom of the charge slip with the pen she found clipped inside, then slid the pen back into the folio. She tucked the bills in as well, then lifted her hands to take the tray, the folio extended toward the kid between her top two fingers.

"Want me to bring it in?" the boy offered, seeing what Max intended. "It's pretty heavy."

"Nah, 's okay – I work out. Thanks." Max smoothly lifted the tray from him as he took the leather folder from her.

He blinked a little, surprised that she managed so easily, but then grinned, coming to his senses quickly enough to pull the bills out of the folder with a small flourish toward her and tuck them into his pocket without stopping to count them. "Okay – and thank _you_."

She nodded and turned, carrying breakfast back into the room. As she did, she noted that Logan was already up and moving toward her. "What about breakfast in bed?" she pouted prettily for him, a trick she'd shamelessly learned was very effective for convincing him to see things her way.

"Back in a flash – I promise." He headed into the bathroom. As the door shut behind him, Max, peeked under the silver domes covering each plate, and appraised the food brought. _Not as good as what Logan would make, _she noted,_ but I suspect he likes being fed once in a while, too. _Leaving the carafe of coffee for later, she lifted one of the glasses of real orange juice and sipped at it, appreciating the taste, a fairly new one for her. "The companies that produce and package orange juice are coming back, and finally shipping up here from southern California in much bigger shipments," Logan had told her when they ordered it the day before. "Looks as if it's back to stay."

Waiting for Logan, Max wandered over to the window to look out, savoring the sweet juice, seeing that the town was still quiet in the early morning. The light cloud cover appeared to be breaking up, promising a clear day. After several moments, her thoughts wandered back to how different this life was than her usual one. _What's next, Max?_ she mused. _After the tournament... after room service and spooning in a big hotel bed and being a couple for Logan's events here this weekend ... what's going to be the 'let's pretend' part now? The penthouse and hot tub and dinners with Logan? ...or Normal and Jam Pony and Crash?_ As she heard the bathroom door open again, she felt herself smile with a sudden realization. _None of it's 'pretend,' Max ... it's your life, the one you've made ... it's all real, all yours, and you don't need to give up any of it. _She looked over to Logan as he caught her eye with a gleaming smile and moved back to the bed, lifting his eyebrow toward her as he settled in, propping up her pillows next to him as well as his own.

"What were you saying about coffee and breakfast, Max?"

She grinned widely and bounced over to hand him his orange juice, lifting the tray to lay it on the end of the bed before crawling in along side of him. "Breakfast of champions," she pronounced. _Best of both worlds, girl, _she reflected._ Best of any worlds..._

**GREATER PORTLAND, OREGON: March 15, 2020; 8:20 a.m.  
Hilton Hotel, Vancouver, Washington**

As he had the day before, Logan sat in the corridor outside their room, waiting for Max to get the small case with the video equipment, and when Max joined him there, pulling the door shut, he started down the hall toward the elevator, barely waiting for her, ready to get to the game.

But this morning he hadn't been tripping over himself with excitement, and, thinking about how wired he'd been the day before, Max started to wonder if he'd already lost the game in his head. "They spike your breakfast or somethin'?" she asked, testing the waters. "Where's all the bouncing around I had to handle yesterday?"

He glanced up to her, smiling, happy, even enthusiastic ... _but a little resigned,_ Max thought. "It'll be a great game," he promised.

_That cuts it,_ she decided. _He's making his concession speech already._ She stopped dead in her tracks. Hands on hips, she ordered, voice low but direct, "Logan Cale, don't you dare let their record beat you before you even start to play."

"I'm not," he insisted, making her all the more certain he was. "Look, I know we have a chance," he said, seeing that Max didn't believe him. "I'm just being pragmatic," he explained, "we made it this far and that's an amazing feat, given where we started. And if we win, even better – we're even bigger heroes for pulling it off, despite long odds. But..."

"Bullshit." She came up to him and took his hand, crouching at his side and speaking low, in a rush, as earnestly as she knew how. "Now of all times, it's not the time to be pragmatic. That's not you, Logan, and you'll let it beat you. If you were a pragmatist, you'd never have become Eyes Only. How the hell could one whack rich kid take on the whole west coast and clean up corruption and deflate the power of the black market if he was 'just being pragmatic?'" Her eyes shone with a fierce determination to awaken the power she'd seen in him the days and weeks before. "It's not going to be just a 'great game' – it will be great because you guys deserve this, you _own_ this tournament." She looked deep inside his eyes, looking for that spark that had carried him this far. "Think about those little bastards, thinking they can take you, thinking that because they're college boys they're better than you..."

Max saw that the spark had started to glow again, but, unknown to her, inspired less by her words than by her energy and fierceness for his cause ... for _him._ Still, Logan couldn't stop his grin as he said, amused, "Max, _I'm_ a college boy ..."

"Damn straight you are. And Yale, too; let them eat that!" Max saw that he'd begun to awaken to the game; maybe not yet as driven as he'd been, but she – and the team – had some time yet to get him there. "Logan, you know you're good at this game. All of you are," she urged again, her whole manner intent on making him see it as clearly as she did. "At this level it's not skills that will make the difference," she tapped his forehead, gently, "it's confidence and strength _up here_ and getting your mind in the game that will win it. You can't even _entertain_ any result but winning. See it. _Taste_ it." _You were created for this purpose, soldier_, the words echoed back, unbidden, and Max suddenly knew where this pep talk had been born. With a sudden waver in her intensity at the realization, she saw the look in Logan's eyes, his belief in himself growing with his understanding of Max's love and concern for him ... and suddenly, Manticore telescoped way back into the distant past. With a shaky smile, she added, no less insistent but softer now, "I promised Normal that trophy would have Jam Pony's name on it, for posterity."

"C'mere," he pulled at her hand, pulling her close to take a long, powerful kiss. "Just for you, Max. We'll win it for you."

"You'll win it for _you_," she corrected, "it has to be for yourself."

"Already got my win, Max – you're here, with me." Logan's grin was confident, boyish – energized. "And you say you want a basketball trophy?" He pulled her into his lap all the way, and his smile widened. " You got it." He set off down the hall toward the elevator, Max's arms looped around his shoulders for the ride. "One trophy, coming up..."

**PORTLAND, OREGON: March 14, 2020; 10:05 a.m.  
Portland Metropolitan Exposition Center**

The game would be tough: while the tournament didn't allow college or professional teams to compete in this "amateur" event, it might as well have: the team they would face was a mix of current players and graduates of Nevada-Greyline University, the only school in the region to have reinstated its wheelchair basketball program after the Pulse. Hungry to play all comers, the players had managed to put together a team for the past five tournaments. Merely by virtue of having more time and opportunity to practice as students, with better facilities and a faculty coach, they were usually far enough beyond the weekend warriors they faced to win handily.

But Corey and a couple of the others had played them before and knew that they could be beaten. "Look, they don't have the university's coach here, and this group isn't a set team," he'd urged. "They're good, and strong, but they haven't spent as much time with each other as a team as we have. Here, without anyone really there to coach them, they're just hot dogs. Talented hot dogs, no doubt, but just hot dogs."

Logan glanced around the group to see the serious, focused expressions on his teammates. _We could actually do this_, he'd begun to believe. He saw that the others were believing it, too.

"...and I don't think they rotate in 'outsiders' as often as we do," Corey reminded the others. "They know each other and their usual opponents, but that's it. They're too full of themselves to let in 'just anyone,' off the street. So let's surprise them with what some poor street slobs can do."

As the players nodded and grinned, some muttering insults and digs at the other team, Logan saw that Corey's words had added fuel to the players' realization that they could best the reigning champions. He also saw the wisdom in what Corey had said: their opponents were all young, and not long out of college for the graduates, all of them used to being winners and confidant they could take on the bar-league amateurs from Seattle. Logan smiled to himself, broadly. _The bigger they think they are... _he paraphrased to himself, shoving off to center court for the start of the game, _the easier to make them fall... _

**PORTLAND, OREGON: March 14, 2020; 10:46 a.m.  
Portland Metropolitan Exposition Center**

At the half, the score had been narrowed to a six point lead for the other team, and though winded at the buzzer, the 'Jam Pony Jammers' held on to hope: the first half had been a wild ride, with the Jammers coming out strong but unfocused in their lingering nervousness, and the Nevadans' arrogance in response and NCAA-based plays taking an early command. At the first time-out, Corey reminded them to think and to run their own plays with more precision; they did so, but the Nevadans had used the first part of the game to get a bead on the Jammers' strengths and weaknesses, and adjusted accordingly.

The score had shifted along with their play. Early buckets were traded; the Jammers squeaked ahead for a couple brief turns down the floor, but as the half ticked down to six minutes on the clock, the Nevadans had pulled ahead by a dozen points, aided by cheap, subtle tactics that landed bruises and jabs, but were usually missed by the officials. At 36-24, however, a change came over the Nevadans – the trash talk calmed, the look in their eyes became less hungry and more secure ... and the looks the Jammers received were patronizing. _They've already packed up the trophy and headed for home,_ an indignant Logan suddenly realized...

Corey must have seen it, too, because he used up a precious time-out at the Nevadans' last basket. "Look at those smug bastards," he demanded at the sidelines. "They think they have the game and it's not even half time yet!" Eyes blazing, Corey was pissed, and he wasn't going to let his team give up without a fight. "They've been playing like thugs, and now are acting like the own the floor. They _don't_." He looked around the circle, and reminded them, "we're stronger than they are, better than they are, and we've haven't shown them that yet. Remember last week, with the Bears? We play it like that, strong and deliberate. We've let them set the pace and have been running behind them. Set up both ends the way we did for the Bears game."

And it had worked, but at a price: by the time they were in the makeshift locker room at halftime, they'd kept the others scoreless for the remainder of the first half, and managed six points themselves before time was called. But fouls had become a problem: two of them had gotten three fouls each, one of them being Corey, their best shooter _and_ defender, and another player had gotten four, too high for as staid a game as it had been so far. They'd need those fouls for later, when the game got serious, as Logan suspected it would. _'Don't pull your punches, though, Logan,_ he could imagine Max saying, _or save them for a rainy day, 'cos it's raining **now**.' Besides,_ Logan reflected with some remaining satisfaction, _they've racked up their fouls too, several of them cheap ones we fooled the college boys into committing._ Logan took another long draw on his water bottle and ran his towel over his face again, finding a dry corner of his warm up jacket to wipe off his glasses, as Corey outlined the good and bad points of the earlier half. _He's a good coach,_ Logan reflected, listening both to his words and his emotion as Corey addressed his players. _He's thrown his heart and soul into this game._ In the past weeks Corey had probably spent more time on the phone with Tony than his own cousin had, tweaking defenses and coming up with plays, e-mailing videos of their practice and discussing how to improve their game.

"Guys, we have a whole new game waiting out there – twenty new minutes, practically at a tie – and we're stronger than they are, we're tougher, and we can outlast them. We can better them and you know we can outscore them. But if nothing else – you all know _for a fact_ that all we need to do is to hang with them, stay with them 'til about the last two minutes. Right then, we start another whole new game and leave them in the dust." He stuck his hand out in the center of their circle. "You with me?"

The players all leaned in to stack hands, one on top of the next. "We're taking home that trophy, guys." Corey leveled at them. "Now go play some damn basketball!"

**PORTLAND, OREGON: March 14, 2020; 11:01 a.m.  
Portland Metropolitan Exposition Center**

The start to the second half was a bit rocky, the Jammers' initial enthusiasm damped slightly by a quick two shots the Nevadans sank, but a return of their smugness and Corey's angry two shots in return brought back the team's focus and another two, unanswered baskets, and for the next four minutes of play the score remained at a two point margin for the increasingly frustrated Nevadans.

Pounding down the court to pace the Nevadan guard he'd observed earlier balking at collisions, Logan waited for the kid to take a pass, knowing he could force a turn over. _I feel your pain, buddy, but if I could get over it, you can too_, Logan grinned to himself. As the ball was snapped to the Nevadan, Logan shot on past him, caught Corey's eye and, with a hard pivot to turn toward the guard's path, caused the man to hesitate to avoid running into him. Just as predicted, the guard lost control of the ball as he pulled up, allowing Corey to shoot past him and make a clean steal.

A cheer went up as the players reversed direction and flew back toward the Jammers' basket, the cheer raising again as Corey got another two points off the steal...

...and in the middle of the cheers, one of the several mingled whoops separated itself from the others in Logan's head and brought his eyes around in sudden question...

_No! It couldn't be!_ He nearly bobbled the pass that came at him, fast, off another steal from a rattled Nevadan caught napping at the sudden offensive push. _No time to lose track now, Cale, _Logan chided himself as he pushed off toward the basket, not willing to let the voice he thought he'd heard shake him from his play. _This is still our game, and there are a lot of minutes left to play..._ Logan saw Aaron and Corey come around to screen along his left, allowing him to pull up either for a straight shot in or his patented hook shot. Sensing others closing in fast, Logan pulled up to take the quicker straight shot in. Nothing but net, as their score sneaked up by two more points...

Another cheer ... and another whoop...

"Way to go, cuz! Take out those candy-ass mama's boys!"

Logan spun and looked around wildly, no question now...

And caught a glimpse of the NCIS agent standing at court-side, leaning over to a player on the Jammers' "bench" and pointing at Logan, yelling, with a huge smile on his face, "I taught him everything he knows!"

"Tony!" Logan yelled, his surprise causing him to fall behind the pack as the teams rushed toward the opponents' basket.

"Don't stop, cuz; get going!" Tony called out, gesturing down the court. "You got a game to win!"

**PORTLAND, OREGON: March 14, 2020; 11:01 a.m.  
Portland Metropolitan Exposition Center**

Max had wandered off to a corner of the playing floor with her camera, under the Jammers' basket, where she found she could get nearly all the plays clearly, and had a great vantage point for the team's offense. She'd lost track of Barbara and the others, focused on getting Logan a good record of this game, and so was completely surprised when she heard a familiar voice join the cheers...

_Tony?_

Her eyes swept the Jammers' fans and she quickly saw the huge grin, green eyes looking right at her. Once made, Tony's smile became wider and he waved at her, then made a camera-cranking gesture for her to go back to filming. She returned the wide grin and caught the action through her view finder again. _Logan's going to be so juiced with Tony here, _she thought. _It'll mean everything to him that Tony made it here, for his game... _

Almost immediately she saw the connection – at Logan's basket Tony cheered again and Logan reacted, hearing the familiar voice... Max was able to catch on tape the reaction to his cousin's voice, the wave ... and the look on Logan's face when he saw his cousin... Max blinked away the sudden wetness in her eyes, at seeing Logan so happy. _Maybe I can't bottle this for him... but I can **tape** it. I love you, Logan Cale, _she thought fiercely,_ and I'm going to damn well make sure you can remember this day..._

At the whistle calling a time out, Max watched as Logan made a beeline to his cousin at the sidelines, and the two threw their arms around each other in a fierce hug. Just as quickly, though, they pulled away and the team huddled, Tony included, as Corey spoke animatedly to the players. _Another college boy on our side,_ Max grinned, and looked around their crowd until she saw Barbara, who stood with her hands covering her mouth, eyes shining in delight, her first time to watch the cousins, side by side, as they focused on the game at hand.

_Again, the waterworks_, Max scolded herself as she felt her eyes prickle once more, and she blinked it away self-consciously. As she did so, her gaze fell on a woman nearby, about her age, staring at her sourly, her pert little nose clearly out of joint at the game. Recognizing her as a snooty girlfriend of one of the snootier Nevadans, Max turned to her, lowering the camera for a moment to demand, "what's wrong – outclassed?" She pointed toward the Jammers' huddle, toward the cousins, and announced proudly, pointing to each, "Yale – and Ohio State. Now sit down and watch some real men play."

With that, Max turned her back on the girl, raised her camera, and began filming the cousins again...

_**TBC..**_

**A/N December 23, 2006: **To everyone who has expressed excitement and their appreciation of the basketball games here and in _Concurrent Jurisdiction:_ for anything I have ever learned about basketball, I have to credit my years of watching Coach Bob Knight, long with the Indiana Hoosiers, and now coaching at Texas Tech. Earlier this evening, Coach Knight had his 879th career win, tying with Dean Smith as the all-time leader in Division I, NCAA men's basketball coaching victories. He's likely to take an uncontested lead in a few days.

_**Thanks, Coach, and congratulations...**_  



	6. Making History

**DISCLAIMER**: Characters and situations in this story borrowed from Dark Angel and NCIS. No profits made.

** A/N:** Sorry for the delay in getting this up. Busy, busy... if you're still reading, please let me know you're still out there. All comments appreciated.

_**xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo**_

**PORTLAND, OREGON: March 14, 2020; 11:05 a.m.  
Portland Metropolitan Exposition Center**

_Jammers by two. _

Thanks to that last shot – by his own li'l cousin, Tony repeated to himself, with pride – the Jam Pony Jammers had taken the lead for the first time after trailing for nearly the entire game.

It was now 40-42.

Tony stood at the sidelines by the Jammers' bench, watching intently, yelling encouragement to all the Seattle players as they whizzed by, wound up in the game and looking for that weakness, some shortcoming, that his team could exploit and take the game away from their opponents for good. The other team was strong, no question, they had moves and some decent shots. Being younger overall and, Tony reflected sadly, probably even better nourished than most on his team of weekend warriors, they were likely to outlast the Jammers if this game went into overtime.

_Well then,_ Tony's eyes narrowed as he plotted the game, _we'll just have to take them out in regulation._

The Jammers were holding them off, but just barely. They managed to stay one or two baskets ahead of the Nevadans, but only that, a gap which could be beaten in a heartbeat in a fast-moving game like basketball. But they were hanging in, and it gave Tony some time to watch, to assess the defending champs, and he started to see their Achilles heel:

_...they were like a gaggle of over-eager, hot-headed probies without a team leader._

They were becoming increasingly frustrated that they couldn't beat down the rag-tag bar league team from Seattle, he could see, and that made them more aggressive – and careless. The Nevadans' turnovers were becoming more frequent and their shots less studied. In turn, as the defending champions sensed they were being bested and showed it, the Jammers reacted instinctively, with growing confidence, edging the gap in scores upward to four, then six points. As the college boys felt the game slipping from them they increased the aggression and cheap shots, which resulted in their getting more referee attention – and fouls – putting the Jammers on the line to add even more points to their growing lead. Had the Nevadans brought a coach, he would have nipped in the bud this self-fueled downward spiral that had them well on their way to ensuring a loss. As it was, though, the players were too invested emotionally in the play to judge the game clearly...

The Jammers, in response, may not have caught on to all of it yet, there in the thick of battle, but they sensed enough of what was going on to play off their opponents' increasing desperation, some of the players falling into trash talk and derisive laughter, with high fives erupting for a good shot and even stronger camaraderie evident on the floor.

...and from it all, Tony was starting to see just how his team could put away this trophy for good...

**PORTLAND, OREGON: March 14, 2020; 11:49 a.m.  
Portland Metropolitan Exposition Center**

Four minutes to go, and the next timeout called, Tony caught Corey's eye. "I have an idea," he called to the team's captain.

As flushed with success as any of them, Corey nodded quickly. "Let's hear it."

The team pulled in around him, breathing heavily but energized. _They know they can do this_, Tony saw in their faces, the determination and focus palpable. _God, let me be right_, he suddenly worried, _this will put them over the top and make them know they're invincible – if it works... _

Now long used to making split second decisions and not looking back, team-leader Tony took over. He crouched down in the circle of players, taking no chance that their opponents could catch what he was proposing. "You guys have been playing NCAA-style ball as good as theirs for weeks now, and you do it really well – it got you here. But they do, too. That's _all_ they do." As his certainly returned, Tony felt himself starting to smile a little, in anticipation. "So we go back to your roots – time for some run and gun street ball." As Tony saw the surprise on a couple players' faces, confusion on others – including that of his own cousin, wondering why he'd counsel messing with success at this point, he went on, "these guys know only varnished floors, climate controlled gyms, and team-drilled ball – not pick-up neighborhood games like I saw you guys playing at first. They won't know what to do when they're suddenly confronted with five individual games of one-on-one. You've seen it; they're already frustrated as hell that they're behind, and they're making stupid mistakes. You give them a game they've never seen, and the wheels will really fall off." Tony suddenly realized the comic irony in his unwitting choice of idioms, in the thick of his excitement, but managed to continue without missing a beat. "You guys will widen the gap even more and they'll have no chance to catch up."

Tony looked hopefully at his cousin and, beside him, the team's captain, to see what they thought. And while Logan's face was slowly lighting with the idea, Corey was already beaming devilishly in delight. "You mean you're ready to let us show the college boys how we put opponents in their place, back in Seattle? _That_, we can do," Corey grinned. "Guys, it's time to rotate the line-up. Kevin, you and Aaron are with me in front court, Logan and Davy are in the back for the shots. Think Saturdays at Military Park, you guys."

And Tony was almost worried when he saw the wide, sly smiles break out across the faces of the 'front court.' "But don't forget the basics," he counseled. "Focus, shot selection..."

"The best of the best, coach," Corey's eyes didn't leave his team as they seemed now to communicate in some unspoken code, meeting each others' glances as the whistle sounded to bring the players back on the floor, and he whooped to his players, "Let's take 'em out!"

Not sure what was happening, Tony glanced over to his cousin in silent question, hoping that he hadn't just talked them out of playing smart, and found a less feral but similar look on Logan's face as they started back on the floor. "Logan...?" he tried, worried now.

But Logan shook his head, his smile still widening, and he promised, "you just said the magic words, cuz. Corey's gonna take the college boys to school..."

**PORTLAND, OREGON: March 14, 2020; 11:58 a.m.  
Portland Metropolitan Exposition Center**

Over the next several minutes, Tony realized he'd had no idea just how street this team could play. After only a few more words from Corey to the four Jammers with him on the floor, the whistle shrieked again to start play again, Jammers' ball.

Fanned out, the Jammers started moving as a wide unit up the floor, sweeping the stymied Nevadans back with their sudden change of play. They played a loose, rangy game, as each ball handler in turn, especially the "front line," hefted dangerous, cross-court, hot-dog passes any other street-wise player could see and shag, exactly the sort that would set any reasonable coach fuming for the risk of turnovers they presented. But, as Tony saw with increasing relief and satisfaction, the 'college boys' just weren't all that street-wise.

And even more: it quickly became apparent to Tony why the team reacted as they did, at his suggestion that they play less like NCAA ball and more like the Seattle back alley variety: Corey was the master of the trick play, banking shots off an unmoving opponent's wheel to land in the hands of a Jam Pony shooter; arcing shots from close to the half court line that were nothing but net; seeming to disprove the laws of physics by changing direction at full speed, more than once causing Nevada players to collide, to miss a shot or to double dribble...

The Jammers were good but Corey, spectacular, Tony saw. No wonder he was so juiced at the game plan – and no wonder Logan had such faith that it would win the game. As he watched them all taking increasingly bold shots, pushing the ball and the team up the court, finessing plays with moves offered solely to psych out the other team, DiNozzo felt a brief moment of guilt that he'd talked them into playing such a boring, organized type of ball to that point – even if it did get them here. Not only did the play bring the crowd to its feet and widen the point spread, it had the desired effect of completely rattling their opponents...

...and at the two minute mark, the game took another, radical turn...

The Nevadans had huddled at the last time out, clearly at a loss to know how to stop the onslaught of the team that now led them by eleven points. Too much time left to simply give up, they argued and debated until the whistle brought them back. Waiting for them to come on to the court, all of the Jammers could see that the team's center, the bully who had been throwing elbows from the start and bulldozing into his opponents any chance he thought he could do so without being called for a foul, came back on the floor with a murderous look in his eyes.

"Corey..." Logan said, low. "Dial it back-- and keep your eyes open. The gorilla's coming after you."

"I got 'im, Logan. I _want_ him after me." Corey's own look was pure adrenalin and his grin hungry, demonstrating that he wasn't the clearest thinking member of the team at the moment.

"Hey–" Logan's sharper tone brought the captain's eyes to him. "Corey – we have the game, now. We just ride it out. Take a breath, alright?"

Corey seemed to blink a moment and looked quickly from Logan to Aaron, at his side, then the others. His intensity eased a bit and he smiled. "Yeah. Our game, now." He looked at the other four with him as the rest of the Nevadans came back onto the court, and smirked to see the 'gorilla' oozing anger, steam practically coming out of his ears. At that, Corey grinned wider , and waved at him, just to piss him off even more. "I'll charm him into handing us the game." He caught Logan's concerned look and promised, "I'm good, Logan – just having a little fun, is all."

...and the ball was back in play...

In retrospect, Logan would acknowledge that it really was all the man's own doing, but it didn't make things much better: as Corey set off down the court again ahead of the pack, hugging the sidelines to watch Davy pace him, across court, from behind, he prepared for an arching, long pass – and was jerked hard, from behind, as the Nevadan center, aching for blood, grabbed at Corey's near wheel, nearly bringing the chair to a halt, and Corey out on the floor.

But again, Corey defied gravity and other laws of physics, long used to the chair and testing its – and his own – limits. Sharply spiking the wheel out of the gorilla's grasp, he pivoted into the direction change while quickly leaning in to counteract Newton's first law of motion. But his quick reaction left the Nevadan, whose own forward movement was only redirected sideways by grabbing at Corey, open to pitch sideways in the direction he'd been pulled by the force of Corey's momentum. Unable to catch himself, the big center was thrown out of his chair onto floor – and Logan heard the immediate, sickening crunch as Aaron, close at Corey's side and unable to stop at the sudden upending, rolled over the gorilla's splayed hand...

The ref's whistle shrilled and the players backed away, each suddenly sobered by what such an injury could mean. The crowd was silenced, at once; Tony saw Bling get up to cross over toward the player, knowing he went to offer any help he could. Tony's eyes finally left the injured man, who was clearly in pain and still sitting on the floor, his first two fingers bent awkwardly at the bottom joint...

...and looked over to see his cousin looking on, pale and sobered, clearly shaken by the injury the man seemed to have received. The others on both teams seemed rattled as well. Tony frowned, not sure at first why the players seemed to take this one so hard; painful, yes, but just fingers or a hand –

– until he saw how awkward and painful it was for the man to get into his chair. It was almost worse, then, once he was up, as he worked to push even a few feet, unable to move his fingers to grasp and push...

_Slow on the uptake, DiNozzo,_ he breathed to himself. _It wasn't that long ago you saw how hard it was for Logan to move around with a bent rim on his chair ..._ one hand out of commission, Tony realized, would be like breaking a guy's leg...

_No. Worse..._

The refs saw the effect the injury had on the players and circled around to speak to each group briefly as the center's replacement came in and joined his team. The other Jammers came up around Corey and Aaron and spoke low, with each other. Bling was still with the injured man at the Nevadan's bench, the team apparently not only coachless but without anyone to look after injuries. Bling had gotten the attention of one of the players on the Jammers' bench, who brought over the team's kit and a large cup of ice. Tony watched as a buxom blonde came up to them, _the girlfriend_, Tony figured, and listened worriedly as Bling spoke to them both while he worked, gently looking over the fingers and wrapping them carefully first with an Ace bandage, loosely, then wrapped some ice into a towel to cover it all...

_...so the Ace bandage was just to protect the skin from freezing, not to bind the injury? Must be bad, and Bling's just suiting him up to go to the hospital– **after** the game_, he realized, splitting his attention between the game getting back underway and the now-benched thug who, pale with the pain, still yelled for his team to hustle. For a moment, Tony almost felt sorry for him, despite the fact that his injury was his own doing, pure and simple. _Like a lot of guys I knew back in college_, he realized...

But he turned back to clap loudly, hooting for the Jammers. The play was subdued as it started again, but thanks to the attempts of the Nevadan coming in for the gorilla, apparently hoping to play on bravely for their injured member by matching his nerve and aggression, the game again became more focused and fierce, and the Jammers instinctively fell into a modified play, combining the broader approach of back-alley Seattle with the discipline, timing and careful shot selection coached by DiNozzo to take on the more league- ready play.

After all – it really hadn't been a contest since the four minute mark...

**PORTLAND, OREGON: March 14, 2020; 12:12 p.m.  
Portland Metropolitan Exposition Center**

Max neared the team, still filming, catching the high fives and the genuine hugs passed among the team and their supporters, including those Tony shared with several of the players as well as the joyous bear hug he bestowed on his favorite cousin. Through the viewfinder she'd seen the mixed reaction on Logan's face since the win, and her heart went out to him as he begrudged himself the full enjoyment he ought to take in this moment, the triumph for the team's hard-won success tempered by the unnecessary injury he'd seen befall his opponent's center.

Lowering the camera slowly to look at him, unabashed in her affection for him, Max stood by as fans and friends swirled by to offer their congratulations. Suddenly, as Corey's family moved past him, and Logan was momentarily alone, without waiting enthusiasts, he looked up and saw, before him, the most beautiful woman in the hall, waiting, for _him_, her eyes warmed with pride and desire...

She moved toward him, her smile for him glowing, and without a word, came close to slide into his lap. Finally, Logan's ambivalence evaporated, and his face lit up with his own pleased smile for a brief, bare moment, before Max obliterated it with a deep, emotional kiss...

"Geez, cuz, get a room!"

Logan was so lost in the moment with Max that even in that very public setting, Tony's words barely registered – it was the feeling of Max's mouth on his, curving away in her laugh, that filtered though. Opening his eyes and looking up to see a grinning DiNozzo, his arm around Barbara, Logan beamed. "You made it, after all," he pronounced.

"Wouldn't miss it." Tony was grinning as happily as Logan was, with even more emotion. "Hell of a game, cuz."

"Hell of a coaching job, cuz," Logan's expression softened, his appreciation clear. "This was your win, too."

Tony grinned wider, but shook his head immediately. "Nice try, but I was watching, remember? You guys put on a clinic, man. Of course, if you'd screwed it up..."

Logan's own grin matched his cousin's. "Damn, cuz, you really made it," he repeated. "How long can you stay? You two can come back to Seattle with us, right?" As his cousin started to shake his head sadly, Logan asked, still hopeful, before Tony had a chance to speak, "then we can all stay over here, tonight...?"

"We can't," Tony's voice quieted, his regret palpable. "We both have to get back; I left my team working on some things that still have to be wrapped up, and between both our work, and ... having a wedding coming up..." He glanced at Barbara with a rueful smirk, almost as a cue for her, Logan noticed.

"There are ... a couple dinners over the next weekends; some friends wanted to do something to celebrate..." she explained. "Tony's been grumbling about giving up his weekly Friday night beer and pizza in front of the TV for them..."

"...a tradition I started with you, as I recall." Tony added smugly to her, softening Logan's earlier stab of disappointment that the couple couldn't stay.

_Tony's found someone to nest with, and he's actually settling down – or settling in – in his own, irrepressible way, _Logan mused_. Way to go, Barbara, _he cheered silently...

"...but if you can hang around today," Tony was saying, "our flight doesn't leave 'til 10:45 – so we have about nine hours to catch up and plan for your trip out east, next month."

"We're good for the day," Max chimed in to assure Logan,"I thought you might want to hang around, so I checked with Sandra and Bling – and they've already found a ride back with Aaron and his wife, so we won't hold them up." She lifted her eyebrows hopefully. "The hotel can even keep us for another night, if we want to put off driving back 'til tomorrow..."

"Logan–" As the sound of Corey's voice interrupted from several yards away, cutting through the noise around them, all of them looked to see the team's caption and den mother nodding Logan back toward the playing floor as he turned to head back that way. "They're presenting the trophy."

"C'mon, cuz," Logan turned back to his cousin. "We couldn't have done it without your help."

Tony shook his head, his expression shifting back to his pride in his cousin and the team. "I just made a couple phone calls. You guys did all the work..."

"Cale, c'mon!

"Go ..." Tony echoed, a wide smile following Corey's barked order, as he saw the team's captain waiting, impatient to get his team together. "I'll make sure Max gets it all on tape," he promised.

Wavering only a moment, with a lingering look to his cousin, Logan broke his gaze to glance quickly to Barbara and then to Max, shrugging with a grin, "Normal's trophy..."

He pivoted and pushed off toward Corey, who was watching him, waiting near the painted circle at center court where the presenters were starting to call for the crowd's attention. As Logan neared the playing floor, Corey looked past him to the three waiting there for him, and yelled, "What are you waiting for, DiNozzo? C'mon–"

The usually unflappable special agent looked surprised, and gesturing, open-handed, shook his head. "I didn't..."

"You're holding up the show!" Corey' gruff voice was balanced by the wide smile that split his face. "Now get your ass up here!"

Just as Logan had, Tony looked apologetically to the women with him and flashed his own winning smile as he stared to move toward the team. "I think they have Logan and me confused again..."

As DiNozzo broke into an easy jog over to center court, smacking Corey's hand in a brief, smart high five before crossing straight to Logan's side and grabbing his hand in an upraised clasp of victory, Barbara glanced over at Max with another teary expression as both women held up their cameras, capturing the moment. As the tournament sponsor began his remarks and announced the runners-up, introducing the players on the floor beside the Jammers, Max said to Barbara, "let's get closer – they're both going to want this for posterity." At Barbara's silent nod, Max led the way through the aisle to the front of the crowd, where some of the family members Max knew from weeks of games and shoot-arounds saw them approach with their cameras, and waved them over to make room for them, front and center.

And as the women settled in, the presentation of the second place trophy was made and acknowledged ... and then the announcer moved to lift up the championship trophy, over his head, and with it the applause and cheers grew, nearly drowning out his words...

"_And now... the Northwest Regional Wheelchair Basketball Tournament champions for 2020..."_

_**TBC...**_


	7. Tasting Success

**DISCLAIMER**: Characters and situations in this story borrowed from Dark Angel and NCIS. No profits made.

**A/N:** Here I was, minding my own business, and suddenly I look up and see this story hasn't been updated in over three months! Sorry; other stories have wormed into my time. There are plenty of notes and chapter segments already in my computer so I promise this will keep moving, it's just that the middle stuff sometimes is tougher to think through.

_Thanks for reading; it would mean a lot if you would drop in a review to let me know you're still reading, or if the crickets are really chirping this time. As always, **all** comments and reactions welcome--it's the only way to know what you're thinking!  
_

_**xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo**_

**PORTLAND, OREGON: March 14, 2020; 12:44 p.m.  
Portland Metropolitan Exposition Center**

Even after the presentation of the trophy and the official close of festivities, many of the players and their guests lingered in the slowly emptying hall, rehashing the game, laughing and hugging and enjoying their moment of glory. At one end of the floor, Logan said good-bye to a couple of the players who had packed up to go. As his teammates made their way out, he turned back toward those remaining and stopped to look out across the floor, smiling in some wonder at everyone who had come just to see _him_ play. Under the basket several feet away, Tony and Corey were doing a post-mortem of some of the plays, discussing those that worked and those _needing_ work; he could hear Tony making promises to send more ideas, even scheming to trade in a couple favors to talk with the Georgetown coach to see what he had to say. Barbara was talking easily with the players and families she'd met at dinner the night before, and Max had crossed over to speak to Bling and Sandra, as they'd found Aaron to ride back with him.

Logan just watched, not moving, overwhelmed with the emotions of the moment. The day ... hell, the _month_ – the last _couple_ months – still left him amazed. _Just when you think you're figuring things out, life does a one-eighty,_ he thought ... _again..._

"Hey, man. Good game." Logan turned and saw, coming up at his side, the player who came in for those last minutes of the game, substituting for the injured player on the other team.

"Thanks – you too." Logan reached out his hand to take the other's offered one, and asked, tentatively, "look, the guy who went out – any word on how he's doing?"

The other grimaced, involuntarily, at the thought of the injury. "Oh – yeah, his girlfriend called from the emergency room a few minutes ago. A couple breaks, and a knuckle was fairly mangled – he's needing surgery, but they think they can rebuild it pretty well. Word's out on nerve damage, but they're hopeful he won't really have too much."

Logan tried to keep his expression neutral as he nodded. "Tell him we all hope for the best..." he offered, soberly.

The other man smiled faintly, but in appreciation. "I will. Thanks." He dropped his hands to his wheel rims, starting to leave, but at the last moment his smile toward Logan widened a little. "Hell of a game. We'll get you next year."

Logan nodded in thanks, and tried a smile in return. "Next year."

As the other man moved off, Logan sat back, his thoughts brought back to the bone-crushing injury the man suffered – _needlessly_, he thought yet again. The injury had to be painful and far worse for a chair user, as it would seriously affect the mobility of what was a clearly independent man, before that moment. _All for a game ... and who knew when he'd be back to functional with such an injury..._

"Hey_."_ Logan's brooding was interrupted by the familiar voice and even more familiar green eyes of his cousin, studying him. "You know you're the only one in the place not wearing a big dopey grin. And you're on the winning team."

Logan shook his head, explaining, "I was thinking about that guy. The one who had his hand crushed ... Tony, an injury like that..."

"...was his own doing, cuz. You know that. _He_ knows that," Tony saw that Logan looked unconvinced, and urged, "Look, it was their choice, how they played the game. They played like thugs a lot of the time. Then, when you guys started playing _your_ game, they had a choice again. They decided to just get more even aggressive and rough. The guy was a hot dog, pissed off that you were outclassing them, and he made a stupid play. You guys _tried_ to clean it up – " he shook his head, to conclude, "pull shit, buy shit."

Logan shrugged, nodding, "I know." He sighed, "it was just so pointless..."

"And you mourning his stupidity won't fix his hand. With luck, the doctors will, and his stupidity will sink in with his team members." Tony watched his cousin, still not wholly convinced, and nudged him, "c'mon, I'm not going to let you win a championship then sit around and be gloomy about it. Not even Dr. Doom is _that_ hopeless."

Logan peered up at his cousin and, after a moment, snorted softly as a smile began to take over his features again. From the corner of his eye saw Max coming back toward them as well. His smile tugged higher and he shrugged, "I did just win a championship, didn't I?"

**PORTLAND, OREGON: March 14, 2020; 12:57 p.m.  
Portland Metropolitan Exposition Center**

The parking lot was nearly empty by the time the cousins ambled out of the Expo Center, Max and Barbara flanking them. As they went out toward the few remaining cars, Barbara turned to the cousins and, with a smile, announced, "Max and I decided that you two ought to go on to the hotel in Logan's car. We'll follow."

"Not like you two will have anything to talk about," Max added, the sarcasm in her voice unconvincing as her eyes shone for the scruffy basketball champ.

Logan looked up at the women with a grin, pleased, then looked over at Tony. "Well, cuz, you game? I can keep the windows open 'til I get to a shower..."

"You'd better," DiNozzo grunted in feigned distaste, then leaned over to offer Barbara a kiss. "Nice idea," he smiled for her.

"It took the two of us to come up with it." Barbara looked back at Max.

"Well, then, thank you both." Logan had managed to glance at Barbara, but only for the moment, before he looked back at Max, beaming happily. He lifted his hand toward her, and as Max slipped her hand in his he curled it to him, drawing Max closer. His eyes never left hers as he added, "you two want to figure out where we can find some lunch, while Tony and I catch up?"

"That can be arranged, too."

"I thought so," Logan pulled Max even closer, and she came the rest of the way, leaning in for a kiss of her own. "It'll be better after I shower," he apologized.

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather just have lunch?" she teased, her suggestive whisper tickling his ear. As Max straightened, Tony saw that Logan's grin said it all – his cousin didn't just look better, he _was_ better, allowing himself to feel only anticipation as a beautiful woman made suggestive passes at him, never questioning her sincerity or his own worth. Tony allowed himself a knowing grin toward Barbara, who returned the look, fully aware of what was going through DiNozzo's mind.

...which was not missed by Logan. With a sheepish blush, he squeezed Max's hand before letting her go, and tipped his head toward his car. "Let's get me to a shower," he suggested, setting off toward the Aztek.

"The sooner the better!" Tony waved to the women as he hurried to follow his cousin, thinking for the dozenth time that morning that he owed Gibbs a huge thanks for finding a way to get him cross-country quickly enough to be there for at least this much of the weekend, even if only to see what he had just seen. Maybe not all his worries for his cousin were assuaged quite yet – but any concern he had about Logan blowing his chance for a good thing with Max had been put to bed...

_..literally!_ he laughed to himself...

**GREATER PORTLAND, OREGON: March 14, 2020; 1:17 p.m.  
Interstate Highway I-5**

Easing onto the highway, Logan watched his rear view mirror until he saw that Barbara followed him onto the interstate. With both vehicles on their way across the river toward the hotel, he felt himself settle in a little more.

"So, cuz, I gotta say, you look great." Tony's voice held that quality of his, the 'I'm going to casually bring up one of _those_ topics' tone that Logan recognized from years before, from even before his cousin was a cop. "I mean, you looked great out there in the game, you all did, but... _you_. _You_ look one hell of a lot better than when I was here, last time..."

Logan flushed only slightly, remarkable for the fact that he wasn't beet red, given where he assumed Tony was going with this, but he stubbornly resisted, "Well, there's something about having one of your closest friends being chased by a crazed serial killer. You didn't really catch me at my best."

Tony smirked, but refused to be derailed. "So ... nothing to do with the fact that you stopped running from Max?"

Logan's flush became a little warmer. "Probably just had more sleep this time, compared to when you saw me before."

"Oh, right. _Sleep._" Tony affected a tone that wasn't the least bit convincing. After only a few short moments, he added, "well, call it what you want; I guess you're right. _Sleeping_ with Max definitely suits you."

This time Logan couldn't stop the grin tugging at his mouth. "Oh, nice, not two minutes in the car and you go right to sex? You couldn't start with, 'gee, Logan, how've you been? How's Aunt Margo? Seen Bennett lately?' "

"Or 'how's Max?'"

Logan glanced over at the grin still spread across his cousin's face, and turning back to the road, chuckled softly. "Yeah." He pause only a moment before adding, softly, "she's doing just great, by the way."

"So I saw. You're one hell of a lucky man, cuz."

"I know." He considered, then added, "I still have a hard time believing it, given the givens, but ... not so often, anymore. And not as long."

"Weelllll, then I'd say Max is some miracle worker." Tony nodded, impressed. "So how did she take the fact that I knew about Manticore, and had her figured out? I mean, I thought it might bother her to know that some of the other government agencies had some intel on the project, back then, but stood clear, without doing anything to stop the project."

Logan's grin seemed to fade a little, and he kept his eyes on the road. "Uh... I don't know if that ... if..." As he seemed to be looking for words, Tony shifted to look at him more directly, already ahead of the conversation.

"... you haven't told her." Tony asserted. "All this time...?"

"I just..." Logan grimaced. Looking for an excuse, he tried, "the time wasn't right."

"Don't you think she has a right to know?"

"A right? Yeah... I guess. Yeah; of course."

Tony scrutinized his cousin, still clearly uncomfortable with the idea of having that conversation with Max. He just wasn't certain why that was. "The longer you wait, the harder it will be, if she learns _when_ I found out."

"Maybe."

Tony's eyes narrowed. For as long as he'd known his younger cousin, when the articulate Logan Cale started responding in one and two syllables, it was a sure sign of his extreme discomfort. "Why is this a problem, Logan? You think Max will freak out?"

"I don't know. I'm not sure how she'll react. I guess..." Logan hesitated, then began, "when you were here, I didn't want to rock the boat, we were all having such a great time together. Then after you left, she and I started to look at what was going on with us, where we were with everything, and then your invitation came so soon after that..." Logan sighed, finally admitting, "I just haven't wanted to do anything to throw things off track. Max said she'd come with me to your wedding, and I _want_ her to come. I was afraid if I told her before then..." Logan trailed off, hating how lame it sounded, spoken aloud, and glanced back to his cousin. "Pretty gutless, right?"

"Love can do that, cuz," Tony allowed him the out. Almost immediately, however, he offered, his grin curling up, "you know, if you want, _I_ could tell her..."

"No!" Logan glanced over, but saw Tony's soft, challenging smirk. "I, uh... I'll tell her. I _will_,"he repeated at Tony's look, "but when we get back from your wedding. Some things you just have to broach with Max carefully. But I'll tell her." He added, guiltily, after another moment.

"I'll expect a report," Tony cautioned him.

Logan's grin quirked up again, and he shook his head in surrender. "Why am I not surprised?"

**SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: March 14, 2020; 1:17 p.m.  
Jam Pony**

At the same time, some one hundred eighty miles north of the Portland airport, Sketchy walked out of Jam Pony, ending his half-day Sunday shift. As he finished counting his generous tips, the main perq of taking the overtime, weekend duty, he grinned to himself at the bounty and looked up as he stepped off the curb. His step hesitated momentarily and his grin faded as he saw the black SUV across the street, waiting for him.

It took him a moment to remember he'd sent the guy a note, and he should have expected to see him this soon. Still, these meetings had become pretty weird, and he always felt as if he'd missed something important in their discussions. He felt himself gulp a little as he approached to see the window humming down, and the now-familiar steely eyes and grim mouth appearing before him.

"Hey," Sketchy said. He was always nervous as he began, no matter how good a thing it was he was doing.

"You said you had some information about Max," the man said, as always now getting right to the point.

"Yeah, right." Sketchy nodded.

"Is it about where she's gone?" the man prodded. "She's been gone for two days at least; do you know where she is?"

"Oh, sure..." Sketchy relaxed a little. "She went to Portland."

The eyes flickered in curiosity. "Portland?" he pressed. "Did she say why?"

"Didn't have to – everyone at work knows. Logan's basketball team was in the regional finals this weekend – they won, too, man..." At the man's questioning look, Sketchy went on, "you know – wheelchair basketball? Logan's in a wheelchair an' he..."

"A _tournament_? For wheelchair basketball?" The man's icy eyes had narrowed, and his mouth slowly formed the words, as if they left a foul taste in his mouth. _For all the money spent in research and development, all the time and talent spent on her training ... Max ends up with a man who... _

"Yeah, man. Jam Pony sponsored them, and they're regional champs now. It's pretty awesome when you think about it..."

The man in the SUV gritted his teeth at the irrelevant news and pressed, "so it's over and she's coming back?"

"Yeah, maybe she's back already; I'm not sure." As he did at least once each meeting with the terse stranger, Sketchy had a moment of doubt whether or not he was doing the right thing, giving this man reports about Max, no matter what his connection was. The guy was just flat out creepy now; he'd dropped the friendlier banter from their first couple meetings, especially that first time in Crash. But he'd stayed away from Max, and really did seem to have her best interests at heart, concerned about where she was, who she was seeing. He knew a lot about her and even had a picture of her, from when Max was small, so had to be who he said he was. His concern about her and his wanting to keep his distance made sense, seeing how he knocked up Max's mother in a fast two week romance before he took off for the service. That really wasn't much of a start for developing a real father-daughter relationship. And the guy paid Sketchy well enough for the information that he _had_ to have the money he said he had, that he wanted to leave to Max.

_Yeah, it all fit, and the guy just wanted to know Max was okay but not trip her up by trying to horn in on her life._ He was only helping, Sketchy figured. _And maybe Max will remember her friends, when it comes time... _

"Son, is that all you had to report this time? That she was gone but she's probably back now?"

"Oh – no, there's more," Sketchy remembered, rolling his eyes. "Portland wasn't why I sent the message. Max is leaving again, next month. She's gonna be gone at least a week, and they're even talking about making it two. _Logan_ again..." he added, his voice lower. "You know, she's being more and more up front that she and Logan are ... uh," Sketchy suddenly hesitated, unsure of how blunt to be. This was her _father_, after all. "You know. _Together._ As a couple. She kept denying it, but after a while I don't think even she believed we were buyin' it. Could be a lot worse, you know," Sketchy offered, philosophically. "He's loaded. And he's a nice guy." Sketchy looked into the man's stony glare, which as always gave away nothing. It occurred to Sketchy that her dad might also want to know the rest. "Oh – and he's crazy about her. And her about him. They just..." Sketchy shrugged. "I dunno, it's like they have some secret code; they connect, like they have some secrets only they know." He paused, remembering the times he'd seen them together, and mused, "'course, I think a few of the secrets Original Cindy knows too, but those two are always telling each other stuff, you know, _girl_ stuff..."

Lydecker gritted his teeth, wondering yet again if losing his sanity was worth it, putting up with this moron for the few tid-bits of intel he occasionally had to offer. Admittedly, this time it might be. "Did she say where they were going, and why?"

"Yup. DC."

Lydecker froze. "Washington, DC?" he tried. At Sketchy's silent nod, he breathed evenly, and asked, "why?"

"Logan's cousin is getting married, and Logan is best man." Lydecker's slight relaxation at the news evaporated at Sketchy's next words. "After that, they may just hang in the area, check it out. Max has never been out east."

Lydecker's eyes narrowed. "Did they say where they intend to 'check it out'?"

Sketchy shrugged. "I dunno. Not really. I don't think they have any plans."

_Don't have? Or wouldn't air them? Fifty-fifty on that one..._ "Look, son... If you think you can ask Max without making her uncomfortable or suspicious ... I want you to see if they have plans to go anywhere else while they're there, find out where and why, can you do that?"

"Sure," Sketchy smirked, "I told you I do some investigative reporting..."

"That you did." Lydecker's considered whether or not there was a way he could get this fool to plant a tracker on something of Max's that would allow him to follow their movements... _No way to do it and be certain it was something Max would take with her on the trip,_ he considered. But in the next moment, with an ironic leer, it occurred to him that as tough as it would be to figure that out for Max, there was one thing he could rest assured Logan Cale would need to take with him... "Tell me, son." For the first time that evening, Lydecker's face shifted into something vaguely reminiscent of a smile. "Will there be any sort of celebration or party for the basketball team, once they get back?

_**To be continued...**_


	8. Getting Reacquainted

**DISCLAIMER**: Characters and situations in this story borrowed from Dark Angel and NCIS. No profits made.

**A/N:** Again, a longer delay in updating than I'd intended. Thanks to all of you who sent PMs, e-mails and other pokes to get this moving. It's nice to know that there's still an interest in the cousins out there. Apologies that it's taking longer to get to the wedding than originally planned, but the cousins are taking their time with things. It shouldn't be too much longer now...

A big thanks to Lisa0316 for all the authentic location scenes; tons of thanks to Mari83 for all her reading and comments, for looking over my shoulder on this chapter and providing thoughts for both this and future parts of the story. You guys get extra chocolate in this week's rations!!

_Any and all comments welcomed and appreciated._

_**xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo**_

**GREATER PORTLAND, OREGON: March 14, 2020; 2:10 p.m.  
Hilton Hotel, Vancouver, Washington, room 517**

"So tell me about your ride back with Barbara."

Logan had showered quickly, and as he came out of the steamy bathroom, wearing only boxers and a towel around his neck, he stopped at the foot of the bed, where he scrubbed his hair briskly with the towel. Max looked up from the suitcase she was filling with their clothes and other sundries, and shrugged. "What do you want to know?"

"Well, you know – what did you two talk about? How'd she seem, just the two of you talking?" He draped the towel back around his neck and reached for the pants and sweater he'd left on the bed as the rest of their things were being loaded into their bags. "Did she say anything about the wedding, or Tony, or Washington?"

Max couldn't resist. "You know, if you'd wanted to get in some girl talk with her, I could have ridden back with Tony and you two could have traded recipes." Her teasing held a decidedly flirtatious sound. "Or were you planning a hack about her?"

As she expected, he rolled his eyes as he explained, his tone overly patient, "she _is_ marrying my cousin – I just want to know that he's getting the woman he deserves."

"Yesterday, you thought she was perfect." Max went back to packing their suitcases, her expression making clear she wasn't following his sudden change of heart. "You barely saw her today." She stopped again and turned to look back as she asked, "she do something to change your mind?"

"No, nothing like that..." He started to pull on his pants, trying to sound unconcerned. "He's just been a bachelor for a long time, and he seemed pretty happy playing the field – when he had time, at least, around his job. It's great that he's found someone as bright and successful as Barbara, and she seems to be genuinely nice. She's beautiful – has a good sense of humor ..." To Max's practiced ear, it seemed more that Logan was trying to convince himself of his words than merely tick off Barbara's attributes.

"But ... the downside of all that is...?" Max prodded, not quite getting his concern.

"Nothing." He kept his eyes on his task, avoiding her gaze as he busied himself with dressing, allowing a final tug of his pants to get them zipped and buttoned. After a moment, though, he added, "if it's all as good as it seems."

Max looked at Logan, weighing all the reasons he might have for doubting that Barbara was just what she seemed to be. "Why wouldn't it?"

Logan still wouldn't make eye contact with her. "No reason," he shrugged, reaching for his sweater, when he stopped and, after another moment, looked up at her and admitted, "it's just ... this is _Tony_. For him to take a step like this ..." He seemed to look for the right words. "I want him to be happy. If it doesn't work out, after he was willing to open up again, enough to make the commitment ..."

He glanced down, once more retreating from her gaze. _Maybe remembering some past reasons for his concern_, Max thought. _Something about Tony he's never mentioned...?_

But he looked up to her again to admit, softly, "I just don't want to see him get hurt."

Max considered his words for a moment. Trying to be helpful, she shrugged, "Tony doesn't seem like the sort who would be hurt for long. Wouldn't he just bounce back?"

It didn't faze him; Logan nodded, "that's just it; that's what he wants everyone to think. But he just swallows it, keeps hurt inside..." He left his sweater sitting in his lap as he mused, "he shouldn't have to go though that, either the hurt, or hiding it afterward."

Max's skeptical expression softened to understanding as it dawned on her what might be going though Logan's mind. She tossed the tee shirt she held into the suitcase and crossed the gap between them in a couple steps, coming up behind him to snake her arms around his shoulders and chest. "Doesn't sound at all like anyone else I know," she teased gently. "Maybe you're just worried that _no_ one is good enough for Tony. Or that anyone can understand the real Tony, deep down."

At her touch, her soft breath at his ear and her own brand of understanding, Logan relaxed a little and a smile began to trace his lips. "Maybe. Or maybe just being a pessimist. For a change," he added, his smile curing up a little as he knew what her reaction to that would be to his words..

"So unlike you..." she leaned close to whisper in his ear, her tone still teasing, and pulled back across his shoulder, arms still around him, to catch his eye. "Logan, there _are_ people out there who can hook up and live happily ever after. I think maybe Tony has found one of those people."

"Think so?" He pretended to mull it over for a moment, then tried, bravely, "what about me?"

"I think it's possible," she grinned, her arms snuggling around him just a little closer, happily, and she nodded across the room toward the small individual trophy he'd brought back, gleaming gold as it caught the light. "What girl could resist a guy with a trophy?"

He chuckled, relaxing even more with Max's confidence. "Tony got one of those, too."

"Well, then, see? You both will live happily ever after."

Logan lifted her hands and tugged her toward his lap, where he let his arms wrap her close. "Why don't we start on that now?" he murmured...

**GREATER PORTLAND, OREGON: March 14, 2020; 2:10 p.m.  
Hilton Hotel, Vancouver, Washington, room 422**

Tony lay sprawled across the bed, arms folded lazily under his head as he occasionally glanced at Barbara, who had finished a call back home and now was packing her overnight bag. Mostly, though, he was staring at the ceiling as his thoughts finally turned from some of the more masterful plays of the game they'd seen earlier.

"Barb..." His tone shifted; his curiosity percolated though. "What do you think of Max?"

"She's sweet – and beautiful. And your cousin's about as smitten as any man I've seen. Why?"

Tony rolled onto his side, propping his head on a hand and shrugged, "well, I think he'd do just about anything for her ... and you're right; he's _completely_ smitten. He's still got some hang-ups about being in a wheelchair, though, and no matter how tough he acts, I think his self-confidence can still be pretty shaky. I just don't want to see him hurt. He's had more of that in his life than anyone needs."

Barbara stopped with a sweater in her hands, mid-fold, and looked him, not expecting Tony's sudden concern. "Why, did she do something to make you think he'd be hurt?"

He shrugged immediately. "No, I just haven't had that much of a chance to talk to her, really, and nearly all of it was with Logan around. Nothing like that..." He trailed, frowning.

"But...?" Barbara watched as Tony stewed about his cousin.

"'But' ... Logan is a wealthy guy... and she's probably never had much money. He's older, and ... had a serious injury not long ago. She's young. And..." he paused, looking for the right word.

"...and hot," Barbara finished for him. "And you're afraid she's a gold-digger."

Tony grimaced at Barbara's words, her candor a bit harder to take when she so readily uncovered his less-charitable thoughts. "Not 'afraid,' exactly."

"Worried? Nervous? Whatever you want to call it..." Barbara's expression softened into an understanding smile. "You're concerned that their feelings aren't mutual."

He wavered, then admitted, "... yeah. Or just worried that Logan is feeling a lot more for her than she's ready to commit to him." He sat up and looked as if he felt guilty, "okay, so I'm stereotyping. But it happens. I'm sure with Seattle's economy still so bad, it happens a lot. And now more than ever, Logan doesn't need to have his heart broken..."

"I know," Barbara conceded. "But wasn't it you who came home singing her praises just a few weeks ago, about how she looked at him, and how the two of them were around each other?" She sat beside him on the bed, looking at the thoughtful expression on the face she usually knew to be plastered with some sort of grin. "Did that change?"

"No ... well, maybe a little, but for the better, if anything."

"Well then," Barbara asked, patiently, "why the worry?"

"Because when I was here last time, I lectured him about telling her how he felt, about hooking up with her. Looks like he did it, and they've gotten closer, and he's happier than I've ever seen him, even before he was hurt. I pushed him to this and kept badgering him about Max even after I went back home. I just don't want to be wrong about her, and have it end up leaving him hurt..."

"Since when have you ever been wrong, especially about a beautiful woman?" Barbara nudged him. "On second thought – maybe I don't want to hear you answer that." She grinned, teasing now, and saw that the smirk he offered in response was a half-hearted attempt, still concerned that he'd pushed Logan too hard. "Honey, your instincts are perfect on this – unless both of our gut feelings are wrong." Barbara's thoughts flitted back over the conversation she'd with Max, their discussion of the upcoming wedding and the younger woman's attempt to ask – without being too obvious – about what she was supposed to wear as the date of their best man, her concern far more focused on not wanting to let them or Logan down in front of their connected Washington guests than any avarice on her part. "Sure, they're very different, and from very different worlds. But they've connected – and Max is far 'older' and wiser than her chronological years. Maybe it's from having a hard life, but she loves him and he loves her – and they almost seem to have some sort of special connection, as if only they could fully understand the other one..."

Her words, direct and heartfelt and far more insightful than she could know, connected this time, and lifting his eyes to hers, Tony slowly smiled, curled his arm around her, and pulled her over for a kiss. "Kinda like us?" he tried charmingly.

"Oh, definitely like us," she laughed, meeting his lips. Several moments later, when the kiss broke softly, she added, "of course, maybe I've been wrong about _you_ all this time.."

"What do you mean?" he frowned, the connection elusive at first, his earlier thoughts now set aside with Barbara's confidence about Max and her own, undeniable skill in kissing.

"I hadn't pegged you to be the mother hen type. It's sweet."

He rolled his eyes, suddenly looking as long-suffering as his younger cousin, his expression a comic over-reaction designed to mask his self-consciousness at being caught. "'Sweet,'" he grunted. "I'm not 'sweet.' 'Manly, brave, courageous, virile,' true, but not 'sweet...'"

"I like 'sweet.'" Barbara laughed, teasingly. "Maybe ... even better than all the rest of that stuff."

"Yeah?" The DiNozzo charm twinkled, and when Barb leaned back close to kiss him again, softly nibbling his lips, he let his worries rest for the moment. "'Sweet,' huh?"he murmured, not containing his grin. "I'll give it some thought..."

**GREATER PORTLAND, OREGON: March 14, 2020; 2:31 p.m.  
Hilton Hotel, Vancouver, Washington, lobby**

The four met back in the lobby at 2:30 as agreed, each couple oblivious to the other's analysis of their relationship and the resulting near misses of their meeting time afterward.

"We're doomed, cuz; you know that, right?" Tony teased as he ambled up, performing for the women. "The concierge apparently told Max and Barb about a park back in Portland, some rose garden or something, and a 'Shakespeare Garden' they have there, very romantic, guaranteed to get you whatever you want from your man." He shook his head. "Complete with directions for some place to stop off and get 'a loaf of bread, a jug of wine, for thou...'" he paraphrased broadly.

"That's not Shakespeare – or even close," Logan pointed out.

"No, but dangerous all the same." He looked at the women, then back to Logan. "You think you're up to it?"

Logan pursed his lips, then shrugged. "You armed?"

Tony managed to hold back his grin at his cousin's response. "Just one handgun – is that enough?"

"Very funny, you two," Barbara finally interrupted, with a laugh. "Just think of it as food and someplace to sit and eat it. You can handle it."

"A little food, a lot of atmosphere..." Tony affected a skeptical look. "I don't know if it's safe."

"I don't know why you're worried, cuz," Logan protested, "you're already caught and tagged."

"Like you're not?" Tony's retort was immediate, unable to resist the obvious humor, but only a moment later did he think that it might be over the line. To his relief, however, Logan grinned widely amid the blush of color his cousin's words raised – and so did Max, who turned to raise her eyebrows in silent question to his younger cousin.

In response, Logan looked up to Max, and was taken with the sparkle in her eyes at Tony's observation. He wondered if Max was just going along with the suggestion for the picnic, given the 'girliness' of the plan: even after all of Original Cindy's pestering Max with manicures and helping her primp for special occasions, Max had managed to remain stubbornly Max, much to his amused delight. Still, she _did _seem to be looking forward to their afternoon, and whether it was fueled by the promise of getting him into the romantic gardens or not – a thought that actually pleased him – he knew that it was at least for his sake, for how much Tony meant to him, and Barbara, to Tony. _If Max understands anything in this world, it's family,_ he reminded himself yet again. He lifted a hand toward her and offered, "the Shakespeare Garden, then?"

"Sounds perfect," she beamed, slipping her hand in his, and Logan nodded to look back up toward his cousin.

"Sounds perfect" he agreed.

**PORTLAND, OREGON: March 14, 2020; 2:54 p.m.  
Washington Park area**

With the women in the lead car, the men following in Logan's Aztek, they found the deli without any trouble, and Max knew they'd lost Logan as soon as she stepped into the airy, aromatic shop, lined with shelves and displays of wine and beer on one side, cheeses, meats and breads on the other, and a myriad of other foods, both fresh and packaged, local and imported, throughout the place. She chuckled ruefully and asked him, "so we should just go ahead and come back to get you in, what, three or four hours?"

Barbara grinned and said, "come back for us both – we may have a few more things back home than Seattle does right now, but I haven't been able to get the time for a place like this in a long while."

Logan looked up to his new ally in appreciation, then smirked to Max, "just a few minutes to look around won't hurt."

Tony shrugged, "Max, at least all you have to do is to throw whatever he finds into the car. If Barbara finds something we may have some begging to do at the airport."

"Or we can mail it to you. Knock yourself out, Barb," Logan grinned. As the cooks happily made their way amid the counters, Logan called back to the others, "you two can look for lunch – all the fruit and cheese here, you can see what looks good."

Max looked to Tony and shrugged, "I may not be much of a cook, but I'm an expert at eating."

"I'm with you, Max," he nodded. "I'll look for some wine and meet you at the food."

Each of them wandered off, Logan and Barb toward meat and breads for their lunch, Max to the cheese, Tony the wine. After several minutes, finding too many intriguing items to pass up, Logan grabbed a small basket and happily tossed in some little jars and bags of exotic ingredients for his pantry. With a bottle of wine in each hand, Tony rounded a corner to see that his cousin and his bride-to-be were bonding over some green stuff. With a private smile for their apparent connection, he went the other direction to see what Max was up to.

Finding Max around the next display, Tony wandered up the aisle beside her just as something on the shelf caught her eye. She pulled the jar down, smile widening as she looked it over. As he neared her she glanced up to him, her pleased grin fully in place.

In anticipation, Tony raised his eyebrows, her smile infectious. "Wha'ja find?"

"Peanut butter. It's been off the shelves in Seattle for months now – and I happen to know someone who has been grumpy about it ever since."

"Ouch – they seem to know it here, too." He peered at the sign on the shelf. "Nine bucks a jar?"

Max nodded, shrugging. "Who knows why – must be tough getting those peanuts over the Rockies." She looked at the jar and her smile returned as she predicted, "Logan is gonna be _so_ glad to see this..." Looking back up to the shelf, she pulled two more jars down from the shelf – and any worry or second thoughts Tony had about Max that morning suddenly evaporated: her expression said it all. Her look of delight that she'd found something she knew would make Logan happy – something as simple as peanut butter – told him all he needed to know about her intentions for him.

But she was looking back up at Tony now with a conspiratorial smile. "Look– can you distract Logan long enough for me to buy these? I want to surprise him," she admitted, looking a little self-conscious at the admission. "Maybe with everything else here he won't even think about peanut butter."

"Sure, it's what I do. Do you need a full scale diversion or just a small misdirection? No cars in here to blow up, but I think I can come up with something..."

She colored even a little more, but managed, "I'm sure just a short conversation would do..."

DiNozzo beamed. "I'm on it." As he wandered back down the aisle toward his cousin, he felt his smile lingering, even curving up a little higher at his last observation. The tough, capable Max, smiling over peanut butter and blushing at herself as she planned her surprise for Logan. _Ah, l'amour_, he mused. _Working on Logan; working on Max..._

Tony found his target amid the bins of produce, engaged in a detailed discussion with Barbara about which peppers grew best indoors . He managed to loop around the bins and tables to approach the pair from the other side, causing Logan to glance up at him, away from Max and the register. Another charming grin, and Tony skillfully coaxed the two to fill him in on the conversation and deftly dropped just enough questions and comments to keep the discussion moving.

As Max moved quietly to the check out line she glanced back to see Tony, facing her way, as he held Logan and Barbara's attention away from her. She paid for her purchase, amused at the agent's efforts in her behalf. _Sure am glad Tony's on our side,_ she thought, watching Tony chatting easily, not allowing even the tiniest sign that he was providing cover for her. _Given the givens, with all of Logan's missions and enemies ... it's awfully good to know that Tony can be there for him ... just in case..._

She had just taken her change from the clerk and slipped the paper sack with her purchases into her backpack when she saw Logan turn slightly and start to peer around the place. "Where'd Max go?" he tried.

Not dropping a beat, Tony, who had seen her finish her mission and caught her eye as she turned, tipped his chin her way just as she zipped her bag closed. "Over there," he offered.

She immediately stepped over to a nearby display rack, and studied the wares spread there before her. From the corner of her eye she saw Logan turn toward her and, waiting a moment to be sure he had time to see her innocently shopping, Max then looked back up to him across the store. As if responding to his look, she wandered on back to the others. "Find anything interesting?" she tried, before he could ask her the same thing.

He nodded, and after showing her his basket, lifted a small knobby root in to beam, "some fresh ginger. Have you ever smelled it?" At her shrug of uncertainty, he lifted the small root toward her, and she took a delicate sniff.

Her expression suddenly shifted to one of surprise. "Wow. What can you do with that?"

He grinned. "All kinds of good stuff." Before he could offer his promises to Max for ginger-spiced delights, Tony gave him his best suggestive leer.

"All kinds, cuz?" he tried. "This cooking thing is the real deal, isn't it?"

To Tony's delight, Logan actually smirked, showing no sign that he was daunted by the teasing of his randier cousin. "The way to a woman's heart, cuz," he agreed. That look of pained, unrealized desire that Tony had seen so frequently in Logan on his last visit, only weeks ago, was nowhere evident. DiNozzo laughed in response, and felt even happier for his cousin than he had at the end of the game.

Tony glanced at the women and though Max reacted only briefly to him, saving her attention for Logan, Barbara's eyes met his, clearly reading his thoughts. He grinned to see it and threw her a wink. _Sure glad that Barb is the only one who knew what I was thinking this morning_, DiNozzo reminded himself, with a mental head slap to emphasize his point. _Just what Logan needs now, me coming in and questioning his life with Max. __**Look**__ at them,_ he thought happily as he watched Logan trade the ginger for a reedy green stalk and lift it to her as well. As Max drew a slow, appreciative breath in, enjoying the scent and smiling her approval, Tony reached over to take Barbara's hand.

"Think it's time I learn to cook?" he asked her, conspiratorially.

"I wondered if you'd ever come around," she grinned. "Watch and learn..." she nodded toward his cousin...

_**To be continued...**_


	9. Winding Down

**DISCLAIMER**: Characters and situations in this story borrowed from Dark Angel and NCIS. No profits made.

**A/N:** Ah, again it's been a while since I've updated, but RL and other stories have been more pressing. Also, I'm sorry that it's a rather short chapter, but a convenient breaking place before the sections that follow. Hope it won't be as long 'til the next update. Comments & reviews are appreciated; please let me know if you're still reading.

Another thanks to Mari83 for reading this installment (ages ago!) and offering moral support for the cousins...

_**xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo**_

**GREATER PORTLAND, OREGON: March 14, 2020; 11:17 p.m.  
Interstate Highway I-5**

Max's thoughts were miles away from the lights and silhouette of the Seattle skyline coming into view before her, the soft darkness surrounding her cushioned by the gentle warmth of the car's heater, the soft strains of ...

..._what had Logan said?_ '_Brahms..._' she nodded to herself as she remembered.

...of the Brahms playing low, just barely above the road noise ... and the gentle, even breathing of the exhausted warrior in the passenger seat..

Max smiled involuntarily, glancing over at the spiky head beside her. Logan's face was now tipped down and away from her in his sleep, and her eyes fell back down to his long, artistic fingers, still intertwined in hers. _The great and powerful Eyes Only... and his sidekick, the revved up girl..._ her smile lingered as she looked back at the interstate highway stretching ahead into the city. They did make a pretty good team, she decided ... and not just for those missions. She glanced away from the road again to the small gold trophy, perched on the dashboard between them, and her smile widened. Just a five dollar piece of plated metal and pressed wood, and it probably was more valuable to her passenger than any of the priceless paintings hanging in his family's wing at the local art museum.

_Back to Seattle, and Normal, and Eyes Only crusades... _What had she decided that morning, back in the hotel room, as she was waiting for Logan? Their weekend had almost felt like a mission, as if they were just playing their roles – until she decided that it didn't need to be. Their sweet escape, Logan's joyful abandon with which he played ball with his team, their afternoon and evening with Tony and Barbara ... all of it was no less real than Seattle ... or her past.

It had been such a perfect weekend, all of it: the games, first Barbara's appearance and then Tony's, their afternoon of almost embarrassing enjoyment, it was so suburbia ... they had poked around a cozy deli to Logan's content, had filled their cars with picnic supplies and even more supplies for Logan's pantry, and had gone on to the Rose Garden as directed by the hotel's concierge.

_Concierge,_ she thought again, rolling the word around in her thoughts, wondering at herself and the life she'd led that weekend. _Original Cindy would never let me live that down if she knew, seeing us being treated like real playah playahs by the __**concierge.**_

But he had been dead-on in his advice: the Shakespeare Garden had been all they had been promised, affecting even Tony with its exotic beauty of overgrown vines and bowers. Despite the Pulse leaving Portland as economically strapped as the rest of the country, with no money for such luxuries as park upkeep, the crumbling stone walls and benches were nonetheless as well cared for as local volunteers could manage, its walkways still relatively cleared and most of the lawns painstakingly and lovingly mowed, albeit with old-fashioned, human-powered push mowers.

They'd found a sunny corner in the shaded grove with a pair of stone benches still cleared of vegetation, and spread out their picnic. As Logan and Max unpacked their purchases, Tony and Barbara wandered up to examine the timeworn, romantic quotations cast in stone along a vine-covered wall, which Logan quoted back to his cousin before Tony further mangled the verse. They ate and laughed, told jokes and stories and got to know one another all over again. The stillness of the park, and the solitude and serenity of the wooded alcove, worked on them as they lingered, lending their voices and conversation a quieter, more intimate feeling, and they found themselves talking of the wedding, of Max and Logan's visit and as long a stay out east as could be managed, even Tony's repeated hints that he wanted to lure them out there, permanently...

As the sun lowered and the wind became cooler, the four moved back through the gardens and on out to their cars. They stopped next at a coffee shop, one of the first in the city to make its way back to pre-Pulse standards, according to Max and Barbara's source. The women had volunteered to order the coffee and bring back some desserts they could share, leaving the men to kick back at the table, but as Max stood at the counter with Barbara, reading through the long, delicious list of descriptions posted on the back wall, she couldn't stop herself from listening behind her for an earful of the cousins' discussion...

"They seem to have hit it off," Tony had observed. Max smiled to herself at his words.

"Yeah, but you know they're doing this so we can have more time to talk." Max's smile quirked higher at Logan's reply, wondering if he suspected that she might be eavesdropping.

Tony grunted, then drawled, "there's a news flash," but Max could hear the smile as he added, "kinda nice of them, y'know?" She managed to shift just enough that she could watch them, too, unobtrusively, from the corner of her eye.

"I'd say you and I got pretty lucky this past year, considering," Logan's expression was one of self-satisfied contentment, the humor in it clear. "What are the odds that both of us would find women like that who would have us?"

Tony looked over at his cousin, more closely, and grinned at the grudging admission. "What's wrong, cuz, not happy if you're not brooding?"

Max had to turn back to the board at that, giving it her full attention – any more eavesdropping and she'd have been likely to give away her surveillance by snickering...

From there, it wasn't long before they had to return Barbara's rental and deliver the visiting couple to the airport. Max couldn't help but remember the last time the cousins had to say goodbye, full of hope for another visit but not sure when it would be. This time, Logan was sad to see his cousin leave him again, but it was after an ebullient, happy visit, with the promise of their own trip out east to come. As Logan again watched his cousin disappear past the security gate, this time arm in arm with the woman he'd soon marry, his sadness was a soft, quiet melancholy, and not the deep, aching sadness she'd seen in him, no matter how brief, that last time. And, this time, it took only a few minutes for her to bring a genuine, contented smile back on the scruffy face...

She glanced back to the dozing man at her side, knowing that all the exercise he'd gotten in two demanding games that weekend, all the excitement and celebration, would let him sleep in the car nearly as well as he could in his bed. Seeing him sleeping so soundly, trusting her to get them back to Seattle as he abandoned himself to his exhaustion, Max settled back to look out ahead at the nearly deserted road, aware that she was still smiling to herself and amused at how much the weekend had affected her. Quite a while ago, she had decided it felt right, getting his back ... she never would have guessed, way back then, that it could feel even that much better, being at his side...

**SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: March 15, 2020; 2:13 a.m.  
Abandoned truck parts warehouse, Industrial Park, city limits**

Lydecker's bark was heard before the door had barely opened, admitting him into the lab. "Report."

As the Colonel came up to hover over his workstation, the technician pulled up some photos on his monitor, detailing the project he'd been developing for the Colonel since his call ten hours before. "Sir, from the photos you provided, we figured out the make and model of the wheelchair, so we could evaluate where a device like you want could be inserted so that it wouldn't be seen..." The technician pulled up photos and product illustrations most likely created by the manufacturer. "The good news is that there are several places – the bad news is that it will take more than just a quick tap-application."

"Explain." Lydecker leaned toward the monitor, eyes narrowing.

"Well, it assembles and disassembles by removal of the wheels – so when he loads it in the car, for example, maybe beside or behind him – who knows if he does upside down, backward, forward. You've got to assume that all surfaces will be visible to someone at some time. Probably the best option will be to slide it in along one of these, here," the man indicated the parallel bars forming the front-to-back framework of the seat. "They go for as lightweight as possible combined with strength, so they use hollow titanium tubing – and they're open, at least as they come from the factory, no end caps. Because they'd be roughly knee height to your operative and accessible from behind, here or here is best." He pointed to each framing piece, on either side of the seat at the back. "Your man will need to slide it in, but stopper it with a plug of some sort – probably this." The man lifted a greyish, rubbery compound. "He rolls it into a smaller ball like this," he demonstrated with a small piece between finger and thumb, "places in one piece, followed by the transmitter, and then another plug behind it. Almost immediately," the man left the small wad on his open palm and Lydecker saw it grow to regain its original size, "it will expand to fill the tube and hold in the bug."

Lydecker nodded slowly, considering the assignment and his choice of whom to send. "What's the transmitter's life?"

"With the one I'd suggest for this, normally several months – it's a high gain output so drains the battery a bit faster than our standard issue, but you estimated before that six month would be plenty of time? This will last at least that long."

Lydecker's eyes pursed his lips slightly as he considered the information, then nodded once, curtly. "I need two transmitters, at least – so I can send in two operatives, one as back-up if the primary can't complete the mission. How soon can you have them ready?"

The tech shrugged. "Nothing to get ready, they're assembled before they ship – we use them pretty regularly so we have them here, whenever you want them. The compound to use as a stopper – give me an hour."

Lydecker straightened, and nodding more to himself than the technician, agreed, "I'll have two of my team be down here to get them from you at oh-four hundred. You can brief them on the possible implant sites, how to activate and secure the transmitter?"

The man nodded. "Just what I told you. Is that enough?"

Lydecker nodded his satisfaction. "If it's everything my people need to plant a working bug – it's everything they need from you..."

_**To be continued...**_


	10. Fessing Up

**DISCLAIMER**: Characters and situations in this story borrowed from Dark Angel and NCIS. No profits made.

**A/N:** I know it's been forever. Thanks to everyone hanging in with this story and asking about it continuing – I hope that this will help catch things up a bit. The second half of this tenth chapter was to have been Chapter One in this story – but then a couple people suggested the basketball tournament ought to be included, so now, ten chapters later – here comes the story!

Comments & reviews are still so appreciated. It makes a difference to know if the story still works...

_**xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo**_

**SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: March 16, 2020; 9:40 p.m.**

**Crash**

The place was full of life, more so than usual for a Monday night. A crowd more typical of a good Saturday night's draw was spread throughout the bar, with several people cheering on the current four players at the pool table, others laughing and telling bigger and bigger war stories – all in festive good cheer. And all because of the large, gleaming trophy that stood right in the middle of the bar, on display for the crowd to admire, along with the team-members who had brought the trophy back to Seattle and to their sponsor, Jam Pony.

It was enough to keep the bar noisy and busy and bustling throughout the night, drawing regulars and newcomers. The victory party had been hastily arranged by the Jam Pony riders; coming in from the weekend to see a surprisingly proud Normal behind the impressive trophy front and center at his desk, they decided that their team needed a celebration befitting their success. Word of the celebration had spread quickly and by nine that night, the entire team had made it there, even Logan, who in all his time with Max had managed to avoid more than a half dozen visits to Crash with her.

No one would ever suspect his reluctance, however, looking at the grinning, relaxed face of Logan Cale as he relived plays with his teammates, poured beer for anyone passing by the table where he sat, and even gained a quick, furtive kiss or two from Max as she circled the room, leading the usual Crash gang into conversation with team members and their group, always coming back to join Logan for a while before popping up again to work her way through the crowd to see what was going on across the room.

As she did, Logan would look admiringly after her, appreciating her interest, her company and admittedly, her very fine form, before being drawn back into conversation with others nearby...

He wasn't the only one who did.

Two men, never before in Crash, managing to look nondescript and ordinary despite their remarkable DNA, alternately kept an eye on Max to be sure she didn't make them, and an eye on Logan, to see when one of them might place the transmitters. Each of them had been sent with four of the mini-transmitters deemed best for the job, along with plugging material for each – redundancy counseled to ensure a signal – and with orders to place at least one before leaving, but two unless impossible. They had entered the bar at different times and never made any sort of contact, in case one was discovered – again, redundancy – and had been briefed in far greater detail than either thought necessary about the wiles and skills of the renegade X5-452. Lydecker had not minced words; they were chosen less for their particular talents or greater fitness for this particular mission than for the fact that neither of them had a clone who had been in 452's unit – and were therefore a little less likely to draw her suspicion. It wasn't a difficult assignment, just took a bit of finesse, and each secretly wondered why this had become such a big deal to Lydecker. Certainly something more than trailing one of the rogue X5s: everyone knew that Command had given up any hope of truly assimilating them back into Manticore years ago – the efforts made at doing just that, that first decade, had not gone well.

But a mission was a mission, and their only goal that evening was the placement of a working transmitter into the wheelchair of the man with whom 452 had coupled. Identifying him had been easy enough; they now waited for the crowd and circumstances to allow one or the other of them to position himself just right, so the placement could be made. They had several options planned, if things didn't happen spontaneously within the first three hours, but into hour two it seemed as if the contact and installation might be accomplished without all that much direct engagement. Due to the closeness of contact needed to work the transmitter into a relatively small, specific place, it was a slightly more tricky assignment than most such ops. Still, it was a low risk, high gain mission, especially with the two of them there, and gave them a bit more practice at blending with sort of civilians commonly encountered out in the field – and if something so mundane got a good report for them from the Colonel, then even better.

Only occasionally catching the other's eye, X5-761 played it more quietly, hanging mostly by the bar at the front, close to the table where Cale had been much of the night, with a usually clear view of the man's actions; X5-622 was eager and friendly, pressing into conversations and crowds as a newcomer to Seattle, on shore leave for a few days from a fishing trawler, berthed there in Seattle's commercial port.

Even without speaking, each could tell that the other anticipated a successful mission that night. They were each relaxed and easy, on professional alert but confident and calm. And though Lydecker would tear them up for it, the team knew it was not a complete loss if something interfered and they couldn't place the bugs that night. They were only the first attempt at this op, and there would be other opportunities before the transmitter absolutely had to go operational... All in all, about as low-key an assignment as they'd ever had.

**SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: March 16, 2020; 11:01 p.m.**

**Crash**

"Hey, Logan," Original Cindy slid into a chair across from the couple, as she joined them after engaging in some quality time with a striking brunette she swore was Zena's double. "Congratulations on your boys bringin' home the prize, Boo. Max said you boys earned every inch of that shiny centerpiece you brought home. "

"Thanks, Cindy" he beamed. "And thanks for getting this party started – Max said this was your idea, to get everyone over here."

"We worked it out together," Cindy nodded toward Max, sitting at his side. "So your cousin even came out to see the game? An' he brought his shortie out to see you kick ass?"

Logan nodded, his eyes sparkling with the reminder. "And Max spent a lot of time getting to know her," he glanced toward Max, including her in his response. "She seems like she may even be able to keep Tony in line."

"But she still didn't really say what I have to do to pass at this wedding," Max looked to her friend, glancing at Logan for his assistance. "She was way too nice about it all, and wouldn't say anything much other than saying they just wanted to have us there, and that stuff like how we dressed doesn't matter..."

"Max, I think she really meant it. She just wants people there and enjoying themselves..." Logan tried, apparently not for the first time – and Max's expression made it clear that she still wasn't buying it.

"Didn't we go through this with your other cousin?" Cindy asked, then turned to Max. "What about that red dress you got for the last wedding? You look hot in it, Boo, and that's a fact."

Logan nodded, remembering, at Crash long enough by then that even the watery beer was making him a bit more effusive than usual. "Oh ... yeah. That dress..." he remembered, a slow, appreciative smile lighting his face.

Max rolled her eyes at Logan's reaction, but couldn't hide the tiny smile that echoed the beam of delight he'd raised the first time he'd told her how much he liked the dress – and that she'd been the most beautiful woman at the wedding. Knowing he was no help with this, she shook her head as she looked back at Original Cindy. "This thing is a small, private dealio, in some office at the Capitol or something, like at 5:00 in the afternoon – but then they'll have a dinner for a group of friends and family, and then start some big party after _that_, for all the high and mighty..."

"Maybe not _that_ high and mighty, Max..." Logan tried a soothing tone.

"How much higher and mightier do you want than the President of the United States?"

"They don't think he's going to stop in..." Logan pointed out.

"But he _might_. And Tony said he has a soft spot for Barbara..." Max turned back to Cindy, whose eyes were wide now with the thought. Seeing it, Max explained, "Barb is an Assistant Secretary of Health and Human Services – as in, second in line to a cabinet position, and has been in on briefings at the White House, all that stuff. The wedding and reception are gonna be right there, and she kinda had to invite her boss, and so _his_ boss..."

"Just think how many weddings the President gets invited to, Max; he wouldn't go to all of them..." Logan tried reason.

"No, but you're taking me to a wedding where he's _invited_," Max reminded Logan, clearly not for the first time, "and _might_ come, and that just tells you the kind of people who _will_ come..."

"Hey, you've met Tony. With luck he'll have run off any of the really snooty ones..." Logan grinned.

Cindy glanced over at Logan, whose hopeful, encouraging smile remained locked in place, undaunted, slightly fortified by Crash's weak beer. Max looked back to Cindy for help. "So I gotta blend – something all low-key wedding in the afternoon, then dinner with that crowd, then after that, everyone off to the night party..." She gestured in what was almost disgust at Logan, as a representative of the gender for whom such things were so easy. "All Logan has to do is wear a suit – same for Tony, even. I don't do this right and I'm sticking out like a tourist..."

Logan appealed to Original Cindy now. "Cindy, tell her – it can't be all that bad, can it?"

"Boy, I don't know, sugah – you gotta admit, Tony's girl is _connected_ – and I mean to the big playahs, in charge." Logan seemed genuinely surprised that Cindy was entirely sympathetic with Max's concern that this was a trap for her, waiting to happen. "Big ol' fancy do for the richie-rich and the political crowd? And in a city where the recovery started? Original Cindy's not gonna be much help with that one." She snorted. "Back in the day, they had people hired to sneak around parties like that and report what people were wearing, who stickin' out like sore thumbs – maybe they got that goin' on again..."

It was Logan's turn to roll his eyes. "Thanks, Cindy, I'm glad you helped convince Max she'll be fine out there."

"You know I'm not gonna lie to my Boo, sugah. Social events can be a trap for the unwary. I thought you knew that from your own crazy family."

In spite of herself, Max smirked a little at Original Cindy's drama matching both her own _and_ Logan's, and even helped a little when she turned back to Cindy. "Do you know what Barb would have meant when she said something about 'a little black dress?'"

Logan snorted softly into his beer mug as he lifted it for another drink, and muttered, "even _I_ know what that means..."

"Yeah, but I think you'd rather that I be the one to help her out with that," Cindy grinned to Logan, standing to grab the empty pitcher. "Sounds like we have another shopping trip ahead, Boo. You just tell me when you ready." With a flourish, she turned to head up to the bar and a refill. Max looked up at Logan with a waiting look.

"You see? Only gonna put me in a bind..." she warned, still not comfortable with the thought, but comforted at least that, apparently without Max catching it, Barbara had actually given her something to work with. _A 'little black dress' means something, then ..._

"Max – " Logan tried to sound encouraging, seeing that Max did seem a bit less tense about it with Cindy's promise of help, but he remembered his own family failure phobias and knew all too well the sort of pressure she might be feeling. Despite the celebrations around them, Logan leaned closer, working again to urge Max's comfort with the idea of their trip. "They really want us there – and you know that Tony and Barbara aren't worried about it. They're the only ones who matter."

"Maybe not them, but what about all their five-star peeps? Just waiting for someone to use the wrong fork, or wear the wrong shoes. I just don't want to be the one doing it."

Logan's eyes narrowed as he considered her. "You weren't this worried about Bennett's wedding. I thought you wanted to fit in there because I was frazzled about it. You didn't seem all that worried about what anyone thought about _you_."

"This is different," she shrugged, looking away in a little agitation, "this is _Tony_, you know, your personal hero? I just want him to think I'm worthy of his favorite cousin."

"Oh, we've already discussed all that." Logan grinned smugly.

Max looked at him, closely, unsure yet if this was a good sign. "You have?"

"Oh, yeah." He smirked, his grin recalling their discussion. "How do you think I was able to get up the nerve to take you on?"

"Take me on?" she challenged – but her eyes showed she knew exactly what he meant and that she was delighted to hear it. "What did you tw..."

"Hey, Logan!" Corey yelled from across the room. "Table's ours – "

Logan looked back to Max quickly, anticipation sparkling in his eyes, and apologized, "Sketchy and Corey have ten bucks on the next game, and they want to do partners..."

"Go," she laughed, waving him off toward the pool table as she saw Original Cindy making her way back with another pitcher. Cindy watched Logan's as he threaded his way across the bar and smirked, "that the same, too-serious boy lives up in that fine nest in Sector Nine? He seems to have finally loosened up a little. Looks like some old fashioned booty just what the boy needed..." Max shot Cindy with an exasperated look, but Cindy didn't bat an eye. "...what you needed too." She looked again as Logan reached the waiting threesome at the pool table and then glanced back to Max, seeing she did too. "Enough to give a body hope that even the heterosexual world can have itself a happy ending."

And as both women gave the pool hustlers a final glance before turning back to their discussion, another two pair of eyes considered the game starting up and, unnoticed by anyone else in the noisy place, the clear blue eyes met brown, agreement reached, and the owner of the blue eyes slid off his bar stool to make his way, indirectly, back toward the pool game getting underway...

**SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: March 17, 2020; 12:13 a.m.**

**Abandoned truck parts warehouse, Industrial Park, city limits**

The phone hadn't had a chance to complete one ring before it was snapped up by Lydecker. Confirming the phone number on the incoming call, he first nodded to a silent figure sitting at a monitor board, who entered in a few lightning fast commands and, after the barest of pauses, looked up to the colonel and nodded. Lydecker keyed his receiver and snapped his response. "Report."

"Accomplished, sir. No problems."

"Acknowledged. Good work, soldier. The bug's active and five by five."

"Thank you, sir. Will there be anything else, sir?" X5-622 spoke low, his words covered by the bar noises around him, but he held X5-761's gaze as he spoke to his CO. They both anticipated being ordered back, but neither would leave their mission location until Lydecker confirmed they were done for the night.

"No. You can dictate a contact report here and the debrief on the encrypted recorder you were provided and store it under the security code you were given – same for X5-761. Once that's done you're both released from the mission."

"Yes, Sir – I'll clear X5-761 and will be there in about ninety minutes."

"Understood. Good work, 622. Out."

X5-622 snapped his phone shut and gave X5-761 a brief nod. Putting his phone in his pocket, he watched X5-761 finish the rest of his beer, put some bills on the bar and turn to leave Crash. With the excuse of not drawing attention to the fact that the two of them were there together, X5-622 ordered another beer and, grabbing the thick mug, turned back to the festive crowd and looked around for the brash blonde female who had come up to him earlier, openly flirting with him. He wondered if she was still around. No reason he couldn't do a little more 'research' into the indigenous peoples...

**SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: March 19, 2020; 6:24 p.m.**

**SECTOR 9; Fogle Towers. Penthouse**

As was common for him, Logan puttered in the kitchen, finishing his preparations for another dinner with Max. Not common at all was his nervousness about her arrival, even a sense of dread.

Since they'd returned from the tournament, since the party and Max's shopping arrangements with Original Cindy, their plans for Tony's wedding were more and more in the forefront of their discussions. He wanted nothing more than to go out to DC with Max, to take her to see the City, away from the proximity of Lydecker and Manticore, away from the worst of the depressed economy. But the more they discussed the trip, the closer it got ... the more he realized he had to tell her. To face the music.

To tell Max that his cousin knew her deepest secret ... and that he hadn't told her that he did.

Tony had been right; the longer he waited, the worse it would be. _Is there any way she __**won't**__ ask how long he's known? He doubted it... _He considered putting it off yet again but knew it couldn't make things better. _Maybe I'm overreacting ... maybe it won't bother her..._

He heard his door open and shut, and knew he was so wrong...

"Hey..." he heard her voice before she came around the corner into the kitchen, looking happy and hungry and as beautiful as always, slightly windblown. She came up close and leaned in for a kiss, which he returned as best he could. She leaned back in a short moment and gave him a look. "Where's _your_ head?" she grinned, sensing his distraction but at least, he thought, not what was coming. "Some big mission?"

It would be so easy to say yes – _but then, holding out on her is what got you in this mess in the first place, and if you lie now too..._ Logan shook his head. "Sorry, Max. Just ... in the middle of some things this afternoon and..." He trailed off, not finishing, but turned to the dinner, hoping food would distract her. _At least maybe a nice dinner before hitting her with this..._ "Things are ready. Want to get out the plates and things?"

"Okay," she turned and went to get their table settings, allowing Logan a moment to breathe. _Maybe if I don't approach it with the feeling that she'll be angry – at least if she thinks it didn't occur to me she'd be upset..._

_...or would that be worse?_

"You should have seen Normal this afternoon," Max began with a laugh, her thoughts clearly in her story now, and Logan felt a moment of reprieve. "He had Druid help him build a shelf up in the office for the trophy, and he's got it all arranged with a couple photos and those pieces of the net you guys brought him..."

_After dinner, then, _Logan told himself. _A good dinner. Then we'll talk..._

**SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: March 19, 2020; 6:53 p.m.**

**SECTOR 9; Fogle Towers. Penthouse**

Dinner wasn't even half over before Max finally asked him. "Okay, Logan, so what's the dealio? _Something's_ on your mind; you've got no poker face when it's something to do with us."

But when he nodded, somber now, and said, "yeah, Max ... there's something I need to talk to you about," Max felt a sudden, cold knot of fear.

_All this time – has he suddenly decided that having a patched-together girlfriend isn't all it's cracked up to be? Too much talk about what Tony and Barbara would think of me made __**him**__ think he'd better rethink things himself?_ Mouth dry, emotions wrapped in a sudden, self-protective fist in her stomach, Max shrugged and affected a 'who cares' attitude. "Okay. So...?"

"So..." Logan could see Max draw back slightly, and he swallowed, hard. "I... uh ..." He paused, tried again. "You know ... with all the plans and arrangements for Tony's wedding ... we need to talk..."

Max felt her breathing hitch, involuntarily. _So ... I was right?_ "You were the one with the plans," she managed not to sound too affected – or too hurt. "What, now you've decided to back out?"

"No, Max," he said quickly. "It's nothing like that."

"Then _what?_" She could see he was uncomfortable, but she was flat out worried now and not feeling terribly diplomatic. His reaction was such a dramatic change from the past weeks, with how close they'd become, the joy and energy and fun of the basketball tournament and all that went with it. He'd been so excited at getting Tony's wedding invitation, and was full of plans for their trip cross-country to Washington, his delight at being Tony's best man mixing with his suggestion they make at least a week of it; promised sight-seeing and museums and a city nearly like it was, before the Pulse. He'd been happy and hopeful, sounding romantic with plans for dazzling her with the city, and optimistic with the thought that they could go be a couple, sharing the wonders waiting for them...

_What had happened to bring back the old Logan in all this?_ If not cold feet, it still sounded as if he was already making excuses why he – why _they_ – wouldn't be going after all. Did the reality of a high-society, high-profile wedding finally sink in, and Logan finally decide that she wouldn't fit in? Whatever it was, he was more uncomfortable with her than he'd been in a good while now...and she steeled herself for the worst...

"Max, I ... I was selfish, in not telling you this before, but at the time, Tony only had a couple more days in Seattle, and we were all having such a great visit with him ..." He started in the middle, words tumbling; finding no way to make this easy. "I didn't want anything getting in the way or making things awkward." He glanced away from the intensity and uncertainty in her dark eyes, the increasing trepidation, and he hated the moment, imagining how she'd react to his keeping this from her ... wondering if this would be enough to make her cancel her plans to go out east with him for the wedding. "Max..." His voice was soft, and he sighed his apology, knowing he couldn't delay it any longer. "Tony _knows_..."

Her eyes flashed. When he didn't continue, she prodded, not really needing to, but holding onto that hope that it wasn't the obvious. "About...?"

"About Manticore. About _you_."

Her eyes grew round in her disbelief. "What, you _told_ him? Logan, I can't believe that yo–"

"I didn't. He _knew_, Max..." Logan's voice was still quiet – and careful. "When all of you escaped, and Lydecker didn't get all of you rounded up in the first twenty four hours, the higher-ups called in reinforcements – inter-agency teams were formed. It was Tony who was first tapped to coordinate and command all the insertion teams." Logan took a good look at her reaction before going on – and saw that, following her initial moment of shock, she was shaken – simmering? – at the news. She hadn't blown yet, though; in fact, she was too quiet to make him comfortable. At least she was still listening – or, maybe, still gathering information. Uncertain what exactly she was feeling – if she was mad at him for holding back, at Tony for knowing– or at merely another reminder that Manticore forever haunted her and set her apart, Logan couldn't tell. _At least she's still listening.... _

"He _stopped_ the investigation, Max, at least for several hours; he found out what had been going on, that you all were just kids, and he sent all the teams back to Washington. He never heard if the teams went back out, but even if they were – he bought you another day or two." Logan urged her understanding. "It might have made a difference, for some of you..."

"Is that what he told you?" She glowered, her voice low and intense.

"Yes." Logan urged, leaning forward and daring to take her hand. "And he also told me he won't say anything, to anyone, about you, about knowing that at least one Manticore child survived."

Max tried to hide how rattled the information left her, hitting her with the double round of the newly revealed history about her escape, and the added, too-coincidental drama in her present. The facts as Logan told them – learned directly from Tony, she had no doubt – painted his cousin yet again as a hero in Logan's eyes, but almost sounded too good to be true to Max's Manticore-honed life on the run. A current federal agent? Logan's own cousin? And now it appears he just _happened_ to have been on her tail, a decade ago? Not only his actions back then, but his promises now, were hard to believe from a federal cop, and the information he now held would be nuclear if known by anyone else in his position. Logan trusted Tony completely and would swear by his every word, but was also entirely blinded by his loyalty and affection for his older cousin.

"And you believe him," she muttered, feeling utterly played, and utterly powerless with the amount of knowledge that might be out there – and passed on to those who were looking to put her back in a cage. "Of _course_ you do – he's _Tony_, your 'big cuz;' the amazing cousin Tony who can do no wrong." Max pulled her hand away and got up to pace away from him, stopping to stare out of the large front window, wrapping her arms around herself, hugging herself, as if she was the only one she could trust in the face of her demons. Before Logan could respond, she turned back to him, bitterness in her voice, to ask, "even if you _wanted_ to be objective, how in the world could you be, about _him?_" She wavered a moment, and turned back to stare, unseeing, out across the night sky, 'seeing,' in her head, Manticore and that escape so many years ago. Neither of them spoke for long moments until, finally, Max sagged a little and, in a smaller voice, asked, "so, if you didn't tell him – how did he know about me being a part of Manticore then, anyway?" She thought about it for the moment and turned back to Logan, again suspicious of too many coincidences. "How do you know he wasn't onto me the whole time, and that he didn't come out here instead of one of his team so he could snap me up too?"

"He _didn't_ snap you up, Max..." Logan said gently, almost almost afraid to point out the obvious, given the circumstances, and expected exactly the grunt of exasperation he got in reply.

"Well, if he knows where to find me now, who's to say he's not coming back with reinforcements? Or that he's not off sharing a coffee and a chat with Lydecker? Logan, if he came out here becau..."

"He saw your bar code." Logan interrupted, and spoke again, voice quieter now. "He saw your bar code while he was out here, Max. He knew what it meant."

The information brought her up short, and her eyes flashed, reacting to the news of her own carelessness, then, wavering, she remembered...

"I don't know that he would have told me," Logan went on before she spoke, "it sort of ... came up, in another discussion. But when he told me about seeing it ... things made sense to him, how you reacted to Bling being shot, how you helped catch Parks. He just put what he'd learned about Manticore all those years ago with what he'd seen you do, since he'd been here. He didn't know right away. He didn't even really suspect, not until..."

"...until I took off my coat, out there, to cover Bling," she finished for him, the memory and her own part in things at least making her less suspicious and cornered, for the moment. "Tony stood behind me and held my coat for me to put back on, and I pulled my hair out of the way..." At Logan's nod, confirming the moment, she drew a deep breath, processing the information and rattled that someone so long a federal agent had chapter and verse – and location – on her. "How do we know he doesn't want me to come to Washington to turn me in?"

Logan took a moment to consider his words, then said, "You don't. You _can't_, and I understand why you can't take his promise at face value. But ... _I_ know, because even after all this time, I know Tony. I _trust_ him. Or maybe ... maybe I just trust that I know him," he admitted softly, "but I _do _trush him. And you're right; maybe it's impossible for me not to. But the way he spoke about, even now – and what I remember from back then, how I knew something had happened with him at work. He never told me a thing other than having been on a case, with implications that had disturbed him. Nothing else, then. It all fits, with what he told me about it now."

Logan looked up to see her back, as she had again turned away from him and toward the window, and ventured, "Max, I should have told you as soon as I knew, for so many reasons – not the least of which was that you had a right to assess for yourself whether or not he was a threat to you, no matter what I thought. I knew that then, as much as I do now, but ... things had been going so well, for all of us, for Tony's visit here ... and for _us_ ..." He trailed off. The penthouse was deathly quiet for many moments, and, fearing the worst, he finally spoke again. "And ... selfishly ... I didn't want that to end. It was only fair that you know. It should have been sooner, but ... I couldn't expect you to go out to the wedding without knowing. So ... if you wanted to rethink your decision to come with me..."

She hadn't turned, hadn't broken her pose. Moments again ticked by, and he watched her, waiting. The silence unbearable, Logan broke it again. "Max ... I'm sorry..."

She finally spun at that. Looking down into the worried eyes, a thousand thoughts flashed through Max's mind, hundreds contradicting them, but she managed, tightly, "yeah? Well, me too, Logan..."

And without more, Max grabbed her jacket and stalked out the door, the slam of her departure ringing in the through the place until it was silent once more...

_**xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo**_

_**TBC, and Happy New Year!**_

_**(the Pulse is just around the corner... ;})  
**_


	11. Losing hope

**DISCLAIMER**: Characters and situations in this story borrowed from Dark Angel and NCIS. No profits made.

**A/N:** A big thanks to Mari83, who tried to help me figure out what wasn't quite right in this chapter. I don't know that I fixed anything, but if I did it was thanks to her help; if it's not its due to my not listening, I have no doubt.

If you're still reading, thank you. All comments & reviews are appreciated.

_**xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo**_

**SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: March 19, 2020; 9:02 p.m.**

**SECTOR 5; Space Needle**

Max sat at the edge of the Space Needle's large disc, knees hugged to her chest, as she looked out over the city, seeing without seeing the twinkling lights below. The news Logan had just dropped on her had her rattled for several reasons, all jumbled together, and she escaped the Penthouse, heading blindly to her bike to ride as far as she could from her anger and confusion, refusing to think of any of it at first, just putting speed and darkness and the sound of her engine between herself and the hurt...

... and after the first forty minutes, after the most intense emotions and most of her gas has burned off into the night, she returned to the heart of the city where, without conscious plan, she headed straight to the place she was most likely to make sense of it all. And now, after another hour of solitary brooding high above a darkened Seattle, Max began the painful task of looking directly at what had just happened with Logan.

Life had become so sweet with Logan, so warm; she'd begun to believe she could have the life others did. _Was it only two hours ago I still had that life, still felt that way? What the hell had happened to make things so upended? _She'd had other things, so much worse, happen in her life – a sister gunned down before her by the closest thing to a parent she'd been given ... a brother who dropped in on her after her decade-long search for him, to pop out again 'for her own good' ... a brother whose sweet nature was too fragile to allow him to remain sane in the face of their history, his blood still on her hands...

Logan had lifted her out of all that; he'd at least given her past some perspective, and had been there for her – _still_ was there for her, she knew without doubt. He cared for her – he _loved_ her – and in all the time she'd known him she knew that, along with his compassion and nobility, he had his moments of incredibly stupid choices and pigheaded actions ...

_...then what's so different about this?_ she asked herself. _Why is this time so wrong?_

_Why did it hurt so deep, this time? _

_And why_, she suddenly added as it dawned on her, were the knots in her stomach more about Logan than about his cousin?

Max gave herself a mental shake, and drew a deep breath. _Analyze it, Max; break it down,_ she snorted._ What have you got? _

_Fact: Logan's cousin, a federal agent, knows something about Manticore – presumably at least that it was a black project, run by the same government that writes his paycheck. _

_Fact: He knows that the project produced kids who escaped – and that I'm one of them._

Max forced herself to take another breath, and to consider those two facts apart from the rest, for the moment: _so another federal agent knows where to find you ... but he's on the other side of the country, a part of NCIS. He's worried about Navy problems, not decades-old genetics experiments. Lydecker is closer; he's still on the lookout for us and has enough information – and personal reasons – that he's still far more of a threat than Tony would be. And Tony doesn't seem like the type to go for making points with his boss at the expense of his relationship with Logan..._

Max turned her face away from the spectacular view, unseen in her musings, and rested her cheek on her knee. The threat posed by Tony's knowledge was actually far less troubling than many others she had faced and overcome since her escape. Yet this one had been a real blow. Even now, hours after leaving Logan, she was still unsettled. _What else did he say?_ she asked herself. What she remembered should have had the opposite effect: Logan said that Tony had called back his teams, threw them off for at least another day, maybe more, once he learned who they were tracking. Was it the thought of going out to Tony's turf, making herself a sitting duck if he _wanted_ to turn her over to them, that had her so shaken? She shifted again to look back over the city, restless in her brooding. _No, that wasn't it, either..._

_What, then?_ Why was it that Logan's bombshell had shaken her so hard?

And involuntarily, she sat up straighter, suddenly, as the answer struck her: _it wasn't what Tony knows, or that he'd figured out who I am ... it was Logan_. It was how he decided to handle that information. He'd learned something that went to the very heart of her and threatened her safety, something he _knew_, without question, that she would want to know... no, something she had a _right_ to know. _Yet he'd said nothing... _

...the twist she felt in her gut at her analysis let her know she'd found her answer: _Tony told Logan he knew who and what I was, and instead of coming to me immediately Logan kept it to himself, more worried about all of us getting along than keeping me out of Manticore..._

A small, hiccup of a sob was torn from her with the thought. All these months, the man who'd promised her everything, who'd said he loved her, even gave her half of everything he owned, could readily give her _things,_ but not this – not the information which he knew could threaten her safety, even her life, all because it rocked his happy little family scenario. _If he really loved me..._ she began the dangerous thoughts, _if he could love me as much as he loves his cousin..._

Another small voice inside her tried gentle reason. _You'd do the same for one of the kids, hiding the truth, if it mattered ... you'd do it for Zack; you've even done it before, yourself – with Ben. You know how much Logan cares about Tony, all that Tony has done for Logan, over the years, _Max tried telling herself. Why didn't it feel like the same thing for Logan? He cared for his cousin with the deep, protective love she'd had for Ben ... and trusted his cousin with the same blind belief she'd had in Zack ...

_...but didn't trust __**you**__ enough to tell you something you __**needed**__ to know,_ the first insistent voice prodded. Max felt her throat burning with tears she refused to let come, as the thought took hold: after she had left behind all her defenses and barriers, after she had opened herself up to him, completely, a greater show of trust and faith in him than ever she had shown anyone in her life... Logan couldn't trust her enough to believe, when she told him how much she loved him, that she was capable of loving him even through this knowledge...

_Zack hadn't trusted her, either._ Ironic, Max realized, angrily wiping away the tear that had fallen in spite of her efforts – Zack had done exactly the same thing to her that Logan had just done, hadn't he? Kept information to himself for his own ends – Zack kept the others' locations a secret from her, ostensibly for her own and the others' safety, but in doing so, keeping control of the situation, keeping that power over them all. Logan kept Tony's knowledge to himself, so that she and Tony could get to know each other ... and so _he_ could enjoy his time with his cousin, untroubled by what the truth might have meant to all of them.

That part of her that had kept her alive, all these years, reminded her that Tony was a federal agent and the knowledge he had – where to find her, the identities of her friends and the man she loved that could be used as leverage to take her down _–_ might just be too tempting and powerful a poker chip not to play, cousin or not. _Tony cares for Logan just as much as Logan does for him, _another side of her spoke up, joining the inner battle. But Max had seen how skilled the agent was at gleaning information, at feigning attitudes and innocence, at role playing and getting what he wanted. How much of what she saw from Anthony DiNozzo was really affection for his cousin, and how much yet another con?

_And what would he do if he figured out Logan was Eyes Only?_ she wondered suddenly...

_...or had he??_

She dropped her forehead to her knees, even more disturbed with the new, compounding thought. If Tony wanted to turn her in, he would be just one more Federal flunkie after her – nothing she'd not dealt with before, for many years. But a Federal investigator with Eyes Only's secret identity was serious. And if that Federal investigator, Logan's own cousin, acted on it – Logan would be devastated...

Max looked up yet again at the starkly beautiful view and hugged her knees closer. She drew a long breath, feeling the cold air pull deep inside her, feeling as cold in herself as the air around her. _So what are you going to do, Max?_ she asked herself. _Stick around to be sure Logan is safe from his childhood hero? _

_... stick around with the man you love more than anyone on the planet, who maybe, all this time, never did quite catch on to what loving you really means?_

She swallowed, hard, and, for the first time since meeting Logan, felt very, very much alone...

**SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: March 22, 2020; 5:41 p.m.**

**SECTOR 9; Fogel Towers**

For three days now – or, rather, two days, twenty three hours – the penthouse had held its breath as the rooms and hallways almost vibrated with its sole resident's vigil. A casual observer might not note much difference; the place was still elegantly cool and quiet, the occasional sounds of a keyboard or the audio from a live news feed might break the silence.

But it was all wrong.

It was dinnertime, and yet the kitchen stood cold and empty, no busy hands flitting over its surfaces weaving their magic as they lovingly created warmth and sensual delights, no mouth-wateringly tempting aromas curling out from the stove top through the air ... no sounds of laughter and teasing and warm connection...

_No sounds of Max._

Logan swallowed again, his dry throat almost a sensory reminder of how barren the place had seemed over the last three days – how bare his life felt since Max had stormed out three nights before. The more time that passed since he'd heard from her, the more his dread grew that this wasn't just another fight, and not even just a bad fight, but an _amputation_ – an eradication. Max was gone, almost as if she'd never been in his life: after thirty hours of paging her every other hour, of calling her home number, calling Jam Pony – he finally gave up; after leaving messages with Cindy and even Normal, he left no more. After writing one heartfelt, heart-breaking letter of apology and appeal for forgiveness as a final attempt, slipped under her apartment door, he simply went back home to wait. What he had feared would upset her had done far more damage than he could have foreseen, and there was simply no taking it back.

He let his breath out in a measured exhale, and noted the slight tremor in the sound. As much as he tried to focus on his work and the files scrolling in front of him, the damage he'd done stayed with him every moment, always at the edge of his thoughts if not front and center. The dread, the foreboding ... how long would it last? If she just never came though that door again, if she never returned a page – how long would it be before he understood it was final and that she'd just ... _left?_ He swallowed again, carefully, as if too great a movement, too loud a noise, might push things over the edge into just that scenario, that future without his ever seeing Max again.

It was possible. It was _way_ too possible.

Had it been anyone else, he knew, he'd run into her again eventually; he would get a call through, find her at home, see her at work. But Max ... for far too long, she'd been on the brink of running, of leaving Seattle, even the States, for good, even after they'd found a trace of normalcy in their lives, in their relationship. It was too easy, too much a part of her daily life, that thought of running and burying all trace of her life in Seattle.

... what would he do? How would he know?

The sound of his front door opening – even when he knew full well that Bling was due and that the sound wasn't Max – let him hope once again for that tiny fraction of a moment that Max had reappeared in his life. But in the next moment, hope again crushed, he drew as steadying a breath as he could to face his trainer, enlisted to make a drop to an informant which Max was to have done for him. He licked his lips, unconsciously clenching his jaw, and looked for calm and balance. For normalcy. For hope.

_...how many days before you know? _he asked himself as Bling appeared in his doorway. _How many days to tell if it's over?_

**SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: March 24, 2020; 3:17 p.m.**

**SECTOR 9; Fogle Towers**

It was the sight of Fogle Towers reminding her that her best friend had just dropped off the map two days before that made up Original Cindy's mind to confront Logan about whatever part he'd played in Max's disappearance. Max had finally called her, at least, but not until Original Cindy paged her enough that she'd probably burned through at least two batteries just being beeped. Max had apologized, let Cindy rant, admitted that she'd left and headed north, but told her nothing else.

_Including whether or not she ever intended to return to Seattle._

Original Cindy had known right away that she and Logan had had a fight; she saw Max that first night, all hurt and teary and even pissed off, when she'd been fine at work just that afternoon. Cindy had practically laughed it off as hetero drama, the first real lovers' spat between the pair, and figured it shouldn't take them long to get past it. Hell, they'd had enough squabbles and disagreements back before they'd seen reason and admitted their feelings for each other, so they ought to be used to it by now.

But after another day or so, she wasn't so sure – it was different, this time, Max was different. She was _wounded_, as if the boy had punctured her soul. Original Cindy had no idea what Logan could have done to make Max so low; he flat out worshiped her so it wasn't anything he'd _meant_ to do, Cindy was sure. She tried to get Max to talk it out with her, but her Boo looked even more miserable when she brought it up, so Cindy let it lie for a couple days, suggesting Crash or some dancing across town, even a good long soak and a manicure, all of which Max turned down to go take long, solitary rides on her motorcycle. Cindy began to wonder what it could have been, as she watched Max become more morose instead of less, and knew she had made things worse the one time she suggested that Max just face off the boy and let him know what was what. That reaction worried Cindy into calling Logan, who for his part barely mumbled anything useful other than he was sure she was fine. But concern for her Boo turned to anger at Logan when Max finally left town, maybe even making good on that old threat from the early days, that she never stayed in one place too long.

For as long as she could, Cindy refused to believe she was gone, even after Max suddenly didn't come in to work one morning, and some of her things were missing from their place. Cindy assured herself that Max wouldn't just leave without telling her, holding hope though the day she'd just taken a mental health day, maybe even was off doing one of Logan's errands – or maybe, even, the lovebirds had finally seen reason and were making up for lost time. But after a whole night passed, too, and a second day came without Max showing up at work, Cindy started making 911 pages to her, nonstop, until Max called her back.

When Cindy asked, in exasperation, about her plans, when Max wouldn't say where she was or why she'd left, she hadn't even been all that serious. She just meant to wake her Boo up to how whack she'd been acting and how it was time to come back and patch things up with her man. But when, in answering her friend if she'd left for good, Max had said she didn't know – clearly serious, and clearly retreating, even from her best boo – Original Cindy felt a whole new worry she hadn't felt before then.

From that one, awkward phone call, she got nothing more from Max other than an assurance that she was fine, she was safe, and there was no Lydecker or black helicopter boys on her tail. After she'd hung up from the call, Cindy knew it was bad; remembering the sound of Logan when she'd talked to him a couple days before, who sounded not too unlike Max, now that she thought of it, she knew it was worse than bad.

So now, with Max's call fresh on her mind and a run to Sector Nine giving her a perfect opportunity to confront him for his part in all this, Original Cindy had been full of barely-hidden fire and righteous indignation as she went into Fogle Towers and sweet-talked the guard into calling upstairs to announce her. On the elevator, she realized she had no idea what she'd say to him, but she wasn't letting another day go by without finding out what had happened and how it could be fixed.

Coming off the elevator, she took two large steps to his door and nearly rapped on Bling's chest as he opened the door to her. "Cindy," he greeted her quietly, his expression giving away nothing other than his own, vague concern.

"Hey, Bling – he around?"

Before Bling could reply, Logan came around the corner and whatever she had to say to him was lost to her momentarily, as Original Cindy looked at the man's face, looking up to her in such hope, as if she might have the answers he sought, before his expression fell. "Hey, Cindy. I thought – " he hesitated, and allowed, "I thought maybe Max had come with you."

That was enough to remind Cindy of why she was there. "Max is _gone_ – an' she won't tell me where she is or if she's comin' back. Sneaked off without even leavin' Original Cindy a note. Only things I can think of would run her off like that are either the black helicopter boys or something goin' down with you. An' she told me it wasn't no black helicopter boys."

Cindy felt a touch of guilt at the effect her words had on Logan, who looked stricken with the news. "She left town?"

Cindy nodded. "Won't say where or why. I'm guessin' you could tell me."

Logan looked away, shaking his head. "Not where." He drew a breath and added, painfully, "I didn't know she'd left..."

"Then _why?_ What did you do to her? And don' even think of telling me it wasn't you, 'cos nobody else in Max's life have that effect on her..."

Her words stung him, she could see. After only a moment's pause, he answered, "I screwed up, Cindy. I didn't mean to, but ... I didn't stop it, either, and I think it really hurt her – _I_ hurt her." The green eyes rose to meet hers, flecked with pain not unlike what she'd seen in Max's.

"Damn straight you did." Cindy was unrelenting. "So make it right."

"I would if I could ... if she'd let me try. She didn't call me back when I paged her, and wouldn't answer my calls, and ... I didn't know she'd gone," he repeated. He sounded defeated, as if Max's leaving spelled the end of any chance he had to fix the problem.

Original Cindy wasn't going to let him off the hook that easily. "Do you know where she'd go?"

Logan considered a moment, then shook his head. "No. And if she wanted to go where I wouldn't find her, she wouldn't go anyplace I'd know from plans we made for her, in case Manticore made it necessary. So ... no. And she never called back, so..."

Original Cindy stood silent, facing Logan, glancing once to Bling then back to Logan when Bling could only shrug, nothing to offer. "And you just gonna take it?"

A slight frown creased his forehead before he looked back up to meet her accusing gaze. "I'm open to suggestion," he threw back at her, suddenly defensive. "At least _you've_ talked with her – she's told you a lot more than she told me." His defensiveness had flared and cooled quickly, though, and again in his own pain, he promised, "If she calls and you can find out anything, just tell her ..." he considered, then went on, "tell her I'll do whatever it takes to keep her safe..."

"What about doing what it takes to get her back here?"

Logan held her eyes for another moment, then wavered, dropping them again. "Only if it's what she wants..."

"It's what she _needs_ – we're family for her, here." Original Cindy insisted, stubbornly. "It's where everyone loves her... it's where _you_ are ..."

"That was what got us in this mess, Cindy, my deciding for Max what was best for her – no, my deciding what was best for us as a couple" he corrected, "so ... best for _me,_" Logan admitted, softly. "So ... no, I can't do that to her again. Whatever she needs, whatever she wants, fine ... but it's got to be her decision."

Cindy glared at him, but under the attitude, she felt a whole new level of worry. The world's most perfect couple had more issues than her grandmother's soap opera, but with good reason. Once in a while, even when things were good, Max had confessed to her that she wondered if they could survive it all, if love was enough to beat it all down and let them just be together. From the way Logan was talking, he'd must have worried about that, too. But Original Cindy wasn't going to just let it all fall apart for them – not if she had any say in things.

"Then I just have to do it all for you, Boo. When my girl calls, I'll see what I can find out."

"Look – don't push me on her. I think right now she might avoid Seattle just to avoid me." Logan tried sounding matter of fact, but the thought obviously was hard for him to consider. _Just hetero drama,_ Cindy tried reassuring herself – but she wasn't all that convinced. "But if she calls..." he added, his words trailing.

"... I'll figure something out." Cindy wavered, knowing no matter what he'd said or done, it wasn't fair to blame Logan for the fact that he'd fallen for a girl with her own long list of extra special issues. "Look – it's only been a few days. She'll come back."

Logan looked back up to Cindy, appreciating her efforts. "I hope so," he said simply.

Cindy took another disbelieving look at the man who was Eyes Only, who dealt with crime bosses and corrupt politicians with unrelenting determination, but who had given up, apparently without a fight, when the woman of his dreams took off. "What am I missing here?" she finally demanded. "What's wrong with you, Logan? Why aren't you out there _looking_ for her?"

His eyes met hers for several moments, before he dropped them, the set of his jaw the only evidence of the emotions he was fighting at her words. Without saying anything more he let his hands drop to the wheel rims of his chair, and turned to move back down the hall to his lair and the security of his computers.

Cindy stared after him, baffled by his response and the uncharacteristic despair that seemed now to overwhelm him. Turning to Bling, she shrugged, hands up, and silently looked for answers from him.

"I think it's because he's decided it's hopeless," Bling said softly. "But whether that's because he's thinks he won't find her – or is afraid of what she'll say if he does..." The trainer let his eyes linger on the hallway, where his charge had retreated. "...that – I'm not sure even he knows."

_TBC..._


	12. Finding Truths

**DISCLAIMER**: Characters and situations in this story borrowed from Dark Angel and NCIS. No profits made.

**A/N:** I know it's been a while; if you're still reading, thank you. The next couple chapters actually have been started and are sketched out, so maybe it won't be quite as long for the next update.

All comments & reviews are welcomed and eagerly sought, especially to let me know you're still out there. As always, it's much appreciated.

**NORTH: March 26, 2020; 3:17 p.m.**

For the third day in a row, the weather in this rustic, woodsy setting had been clear and bright, warming the crisp spring air. The paths through the wooded terrain had shown the earliest signs of spring, with small clutches of small white or blue flowers making their way through the dead fall leaves. The place was hushed; despite some signs of recovery all these years after the Pulse, not too many people had returned even in warmer weather. Now, in early spring, too early for most people to entertain dropping even one toe in the mountain-fed lake, it was deserted...

...except for the lone figure sitting at the end of the pier, arms wrapped around knees drawn to her chest, staring out across the lake.

Thoughts turned off for the moment, Max watched a large bird make its third turn high over the water and swoop low for another run at the water's surface, once again scooping into the water just at the right moment to snag and lift a wriggling fish up and away to her nest. _Cooking for two?_ she wondered idly, refusing to follow the thought engendered by seeing the bird return for a second serving after finding a fish on her first run.

She sighed, and without allowing the idea to go too far, acknowledged why this place could be so special to someone, especially growing up here with family he loved. She had no idea why she had come here now; she had hated her first visit here. And while her second trip to this secluded lake and the rustic cabin behind her had been enjoyable, she hadn't particularly connected to the place – and it certainly held memories that were particularly painful now...

But it had drawn her. When she just became more and more sad back in the city, without any idea how to make things right again, she felt the old urge to run – had even given in to it, without much plan either way about returning or not. Habit had put her on the road north, to Canada and the freedom it had always promised her.

But the promised freedom had always been from Lydecker and Manticore, not from herself – or from her confusion about how she felt or what she thought. And certainly ...

No. Not even now. Whatever happened – it wasn't about running from Logan.

She grimaced to herself as another little stab of pain nipped at her, thinking of him. _Whatever brought you here, it sure wasn't to forget him_, she reminded herself. Her escape from Seattle had led her, unthinking, right to the center of her memories with him, here at his family's cabin – here, where they shared their very first kiss ... and here, on their first weekend, staying together here at the cabin, where they first got past their denials to connect, _really_ connect ... here where they knew that there was no going back...

Signs of that 'cousins weekend' not long ago, when Tony had been here and they'd all come up to stay a couple nights, overwhelmed her when she'd first walked in the cabin: the comforter that had been part of Logan's "bed" was still folded on couch, awaiting another night in front of the fire ... the fire log box near the hearth was full, after she and Tony took turns splitting more of the seasoned wood from the boathouse to refill the box they had emptied...

This time, alone and without real plan, she'd hidden away those first couple days, not going out during the day in case others might be in the area. She'd sneaked outside only at night, as she had before, crawling out the bedroom window to sit on the porch's roof and watch the moon overlooking the lake, listening to the sad cries of the night birds. When it became obvious that she was alone, no one else for miles, she ventured out during the daylight and made her way into the more open areas – out on the dock, or on long, looping runs around the lake and on up toward the foothills.

She spent as many hours forcing herself to think of nothing as she did to try and make sense of it all. And one of the first things she found was that, no matter what she made of her feelings about Logan and what he'd done, no matter her feelings about where they were with things, no matter how it felt to weigh her choices of staying or leaving everything and everyone in Seattle behind – not once, not for one, half-second since she'd gotten off her bike there at Logan's cabin, had she thought about getting back on and heading further north...

The revelation struck her. Hard. She'd always relied on her instincts, and she suddenly realized how loudly they'd been speaking to her on that front. _So apparently, I'm staying, _she admitted to herself.

_... so ... now what?_

Over the long days alone, Max began to see that she'd been more thrown by her own reaction to Logan's news than the news itself, and that the core of that reaction wasn't that somehow Tony threatened her or even that Logan had hidden the news, but at what it all revealed about herself: over everything, she had been most rattled by Logan's lack of trust in her love for him – and, in turn, how badly that hurt her. But that wasn't the end of it all, and finally, deep-down, she began to see what had caused the week-long upheaval in her emotions.

It was that, from the moment it all came down, she found herself unable –_ or, face it, Max, __**unwilling**_ – to let it go. To acknowledge the hurt and just move on.

She was _wallowing_.

In the one tiny bit of 'rational Max' left in her head at the moment, she recognized that for the first time in her life she'd allowed herself to actually _feel_ the hurt, instead of just pushing past it, pushing it away – and now that she had, she just couldn't seem to let it go. She found herself alternately missing Kendra for what she knew would be her friend's forte, crying though the heartache, and being relieved she wasn't around to make it worse. But after a few days in her own head, with the lake and the birds and the quiet, Max finally felt the raw, inarticulate pain subside and started thinking again, little by little.

With some irony she realized that her first thoughts were how much her life had changed if she could allow herself to do what she had done over the week: to allow herself so much time and attention to being hurt, to recognize pain, and simply emotional pain at that ... to recognize that even if she was a soldier and always would be, that she truly was human, too ... to allow herself the time and luxury of all the drama and emotion that so many of her friends seemed to have experienced in their lives ... to feel the normalcy of grieving not for fallen comrades, but for shattered dreams ... to examine the hurt and feel it all, rather than fight past it and refuse to let it mean anything ...

...to allow someone into her life so deeply, and to allow someone to mean so much, that she'd wasted five days of her life over some stupid choice he made just because of how much he cared for her...

...and to realize how truly lucky she was now, if she was so settled and safe in her life in Seattle that all this could have overwhelmed her...

**NORTH: March 27, 2020; 6:22 a.m.**

Max walked through the cabin one last time, a combination of a last check to be sure everything was as it should be, secured and waiting for its owner's next visit, and a final look at the place where finally, she and Logan let down their guard with each other and became a _couple_.

She straightened, clearing out all the agonizing and the hurt and the wallowing, putting it behind her with the other memories of Logan she had here. With one long, last sweep of her eyes around the Cale cabin, pulled the door closed behind her, ran down the steps to her baby, hopped on, and let the engine roar to life.

What was ahead, she still wasn't sure. She had more thinking to do. But the hardest part, the most frightening part, was over. She had been hurt by Logan Cale, but recognized that the hurt had gone way past anything he had done. It would take her some time to think, to sort out what had happened and, even more, to determine what would come of it all now. She was too numb from all the new emotions and their toll to make any big decisions, and at least had the sense to recognize it. And she could be numb damn near anywhere, doing anything.

But one thing she knew, over all: it was time to move on from here...

**SEATTLE: March 27, 2020; 2:06 p.m.**

The phone rang and distractedly, Logan picked it up. The number was not a familiar one, but one that could have been from any service provider in the region. Not expecting any new intel on his pressing matters, and too distracted to work very well these days, he found himself hoping it wasn't some new wrong that some aggrieved citizen would expect Eyes Only to right. "Yeah," he said, tiredly.

There was a pause, a shuffling, and then _she_ spoke. _"...hey,"_ came the familiar voice, finally.

"Max –" Logan practically snapped to attention, sitting up straighter, fully focused on the voice at the other end of the connection. Saying nothing for the first few moments, acutely aware of the potential for saying the wrong thing, he finally took a breath and tried, cautiously, "how are you?"

"Alright." There was a pause before she spoke again. "You don' okay?"

"Yeah; fine. Well, other than..." He trailed, then immediately snapped his mouth shut, realizing he was going down absolutely the wrong path in his response. He drew another breath to focus, then offered, while she was still on the line, "Max ... I'm sorry."

"I know," she quickly brushed off his attempt to apologize, clearly not wanting to go into it. "Look, I gotta go," her words tumbled. "I just..." She hesitated, then tried again, "It wasn't too cool of me to just take off, and not tell you it wasn't Lydecker or something."

There was a pause; she'd stopped talking but hadn't hung up yet. _So she wasn't too sure of things, either?_ Unsure what it might mean, Logan dared, "are you back in town?"

She paused a moment. _Maybe she didn't realize I knew she'd left. Or maybe she didn't want to say where she was?_ But she spoke again, a concession. "Yeah." There was another pause before she said again, "gotta go – I'm late getting back from a run."

So she was back at work – he thought Cindy could have told him, but realized he had no reason to expect her to report back, even if she'd demanded it of _him_. "Okay," he managed, at least relieved that she seemed to be back in Seattle for a while, even if the rest was still left in shambles. "Max – take care of yourself."

There was yet another pause, and Logan knew with certainty now that this wasn't easy for her, either. "You too," she whispered, bare moments before the call was cut off. Without realizing it, Logan slumped, phone still at his ear, when she withdrew from him again...

"She's okay?"

Logan roused to glance up at his therapist, standing in the doorway, clearly having eavesdropped, shamelessly, once he knew who had called. Bling's look of concern, however – for Max or for him, Logan wasn't sure – softened any irritation he might have had for this friend's intrusion. He drew a breath and nodded. "Yeah ... seems to be." He glanced back up at the man and added, with a wan shrug, "she said she's back in Seattle."

"That's good news, that she's back. Is she working?"

"Yeah." Logan leaned over to replace the phone in its cradle, slowly, thinking over what she'd said, remembering the last time she'd been there and her look of anger, of hurt mistrust...

"Even better. And she called to let you know she was alright?" At Logan's silent nod, Bling nodded too, his assessment made. "That's good. Just give her some time, Logan. She'll be alright."

"She'll be fine," Logan intoned softly, hollowly, trying to believe the only hope he had left. "She'll be fine."

_**...to be continued...**_


	13. Searching Deeper

**DISCLAIMER:** Characters and situations in this story borrowed from Dark Angel and NCIS. No profits made.

**A/N:** This is dedicated to those of you – and you amaze me – who continue to find and read this story and _Concurrent Jurisdiction_, month after month, even with the long delays in updates to this sequel. Even with DA so quiet, the fact that there are so many hits each month made me feel as if some of you would like to see where things are going, so I pulled out the chunks of this next installment which have been waiting for too long to be polished, and got this much up. I'm sorry it's not longer, but it's what my schedule allows for now.

Very sincere thanks to all of you who continue to read, whomever you are. If you would drop me a line to let me know what you think, you'd make my day.

**SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: March 31, 2020; 10:12 p.m. **

**Crash**

Bling had been here before on a similar mission many months ago, looking for Max, looking out for Logan, after Logan's ex had shown up in his life to wreak a bit of havoc. But this time the therapist had a co-conspirator, one who was across the noisy bar with Max and noticed immediately when he came in. Original Cindy's eyes met his and she nodded subtly as Max leaned over to take a shot at the pool table, the shot too soft and off its mark just slightly, no doubt by long-established habit to appear less than what she really was.

Bling took a breath and came down the steps into the dark, humid bar. Last time he'd been here the issue was less complicated, less convoluted. This time he was intruding into the relationship of two very complex, troubled and exceptional people who were making a mess of it on their own. Original Cindy insisted that it was impossible that he would make things worse but Bling wasn't so sure. Still, Logan was distracted and miserable; by Cindy's account, Max was too. Neither showed any sign of budging toward the other and from all the intel he'd gotten, Bling thought he knew why.

Besides – if he didn't wander into this mess soon, Original Cindy would. And Bling had a strong suspicion he would be better at this than she would, no matter her best intentions. She might even bring their friend Kendra into the mix and Lord only knew how that could end up.

Max straightened and saw him nearing their table, and a flash of protective suspicion flickered in her eyes. She waited until he reached her, her stance and demeanor sparking with defensiveness, even if her voice and words didn't betray it. "Well, Bling. Back again," she smirked. "So you've decided you do want to make Crash your place too, after all?"

"Max." He smiled softly, nodding in recognition of her meaning. "Just hoped to have a few minutes of your time."

"He send you this time?"

"No," he shook his head. "But the circumstances aren't really all that different." Bling watched as she considered his words and, he decided, knew exactly what he meant – the last time he'd been there to find Max it was to tell her that Logan was hurting, and her company could mean the world to him. "This time, though ... I have a hunch you're both feeling it."

Max looked away, her walls raising a little higher, as she shrugged, "not me." She pretended to watch as Druid lined up his shot.

"Him, then." Bling stepped closer, his voice low. "Max ... just hear me out. Can we go outside for a minute and talk?"

Max continued to stare at the balls spinning across the table for several moments, appearing as if she hadn't heard him. But then she stepped closer to Cindy and thrust her pool cue toward her. "Five minutes," she said bruskly. Cindy managed to keep a neutral expression and just nod, wondering if Max would hear about her own role in getting Bling here to push the stubborn couple toward reality. She watched her friend turn and without another word, turn to head toward the side door, the one Logan had used to get into the place on wheels. Cindy fleetingly wondered if Max would think about that, too...

Max pushed the heavy door open and stepped out into the alley, not looking behind her but holding the door as Bling followed. Stepping into broken pavement behind the bar, Max stood silently, waiting for Bling to speak.

"Max, I think I'm up to speed on what happened between you and Logan, but do you want to tell me, so I have your take on things?"

"I'd rather hear _why_ I should tell you, first." Her voice was strained.

Bling wasn't sure what emotions she was working to keep in check, but clearly something was roiling below the surface. "Fair enough," he nodded, accepting her words. "I'd like to think of you as a friend – and you know how close I am to Logan. I think you know how I feel about his work, and about him, personally. I've seen the two of you before you were a couple, and then during. I've seen him since you had a falling out, and a bit of you, right now. Max, something needs to happen to fix this – the two of you are miserable, and knowing you two I suspect not much will happen without someone knocking your heads together."

"So you decided to do something about it," she spat.

"Well, yeah, after I was informed that if I didn't, Original Cindy would."

Max spun at that. "The two of you have been talking about everything?"

Bling just sighed and looked at her. "Sort of lets you know how things appear to be with you and Logan, doesn't it?" He took a couple steps closer to Max, gravel crunching crisply under his boots. "Do you want to tell me what went on with you two?"

"Would it matter?"

"It might – let me see if your memory of things is different than his," Bling tried.

She considered his words, then shrugged forcefully and shifted to jut out a hip. "Nothing much to tell – just that Tony told Logan he knew all about Manticore, and Lydecker, and me bein' one of the ones who's on the run from them, and he just couldn't be bothered to actually _tell_ me that a Fed had that info. In fact, he let it sit for enough time that Tony could have _walked_ back to D.C., called Lydecker, then walked _back_ to watch the big bust..."

Bling smiled softly at her exaggeration as he nodded, taking her point. "And if he'd told you right away, you could have warned the others and gotten out of town?"

"Damn straight." Her ire was palpable.

Bling nodded again. "Then you're lucky that nothing happened," he said quietly.

Max opened her mouth to say something but thought better of it and shut it again, her stance still rigid. _So it didn't happen,_ she thought darkly. _Doesn't make it right..._

"You suspect Logan didn't tell you, because...?"

"I _know_ why – he _told_ me!" Max whirled to face the therapist. "He said he was afraid it would mess things up with us, that I wouldn't go to Tony's wedding with him and might disrupt his happy little plans for a trip out there." Her anger and amazement with his choice was as fresh as when it happened. "_That,_ balanced with the chance that word would get to Lydecker and he'd toss me back in a cage, _that_ was worth the risk? And since when did it become _his_ choice to make and not mine?"

Bling saw that Max was actually shaking with her words, but his instincts were telling him it wasn't just from anger – more like a whole warehouse of emotions behind these events. He nodded. "It should have been yours to make, Max."

"Yeah, not so hard to see that, is it?"

"No." He paused. "So how long are you going to punish him for it?"

Her eyes widened and she gaped, anger and indignation leaving her speechless for the moment. Managing to find her voice, she blinked and demanded, "you think I'm ..."

"Why won't you go see him, talk it out?"

She was caught short; she really didn't know why she didn't, other than her sense that she was just putting off what was painful. "Not as punishment," she finally grudged.

"Then why?" he pressed.

Max noticed that Bling's tone had softened, and though his words were even confrontational he was approaching her with a sympathetic, even nurturing tone – all wrong, given his reasons for being there. It made her defenses surge back in place once more. Whatever was going on was more confusing and unexpected than anything she'd been taught to face and it made her ache even more...

"Max, you more than anyone know that Logan isn't stupid, and because of that you figure that his choice was a considered one." Bling spoke again. "He learned what Tony knew, he thought it over ... and he chose to keep it a secret from you. And now he's paying the price."

Bling's words brought her up short, as he voiced something that had niggled at her over all the times she played this through in her head. _No, Logan isn't stupid and of all people on the planet would know what this might mean for her safety and freedom..._ "Why the hell did he do it, Bling?" she finally pleaded. "Something so incredibly wrong and ... and..."

"Selfish?"

Max was now breathing hard, as hard as if she'd just run back from the border to his hospital bedside, as hard as if she'd run off a roof for him and swan dived for his hand ... she finally nodded, "...yeah. Selfish," she admitted. "Logan Cale is anything but selfish, hasn't ever been selfish in all the time I've known him..."

"He _has_, and it's been about you." Bling stepped up to Max, just a few inches away, to speak more softly now. "You just didn't catch it, because it was something that didn't have much of an unusual effect that you'd notice, or was something that worked out for you both. Little, inconsequential things. But up until you two hooked up, he sacrificed everything for everyone else. Then things changed, and with you as a part of him, he started valuing himself again and allowing himself time and circumstances to appreciate you being in his life. This time," Bling shrugged, "maybe because it involved Tony too, he went too far. He knows he did; I'd bet money he knew it at the time."

"Well then, what the hell, Bling?" Max's exasperation was tinged with her pain, her voice cracking a little, as if she was near tears. "If he knew ... why did he do it anyway?"

"He's human. He's just a man, not a super-hero, no matter what he's done for the City. He's had more in his life than most men, put up with more – given more. He's a lot like you in that regard. But even so, he's just a man – one with human failings, like all of us, who makes mistakes and this time, made a huge one, because he loved a woman so much, loved his cousin so much and wanted the two most important people in his life to connect, too, that he kept the truth from you, for his own, 'selfish' reasons. Pretty human failing, Max."

Bling saw the tears glistening in Max's eyes, telling him he'd struck a chord somewhere with her, but she drew her defenses tighter, fighting to keep her anger intact. _No, not her anger, _Bling decided_, but fighting to fall back on her training, what she must have been taught about trusting anyone outside her unit... _

"Max," Bling's voice softened, and he waited until she met his eyes. "If I had to guess, knowing what I know ... before Logan – and even with as good a friend as Original Cindy – you were living on the run, ready to bolt if you needed to, closed off from everyone, not trusting anyone with your secrets – or with your heart. You probably weren't hurt or disappointed when you were living closed off from everyone, were you?"

"Matter of fact," she grudged, darkly.

"Easier to pick up and run that way, when someone started getting close."

Her eyes flashed anger amid the tears. "If you recall my particular brand of drama, I was being chased by Lydecker and his merry band of thugs – I 'picked up and ran' so I wouldn't have to go back to being their science experiment."

"_Every_ time?' Bling dared. "Or were some of those times so you wouldn't get to know anyone too well, and start caring for them, as a friend or lover? So no one would get close enough to learn who you really were?"

Bling was coming dangerously close to the bone, and, feeling cornered, Max hissed, "wouldn't you, in my shoes, if you knew that at any time, someone who learned who you were might also learn how much Manticore would pay them to get you back? Do you know how many people out there would do anything to get some food and a safe place to stay? Of all times for us to be on the run from a government with an unlimited supply of cash, we picked this lousy decade."

His demeanor didn't change at all with her irritation. "And with all of that ... look what happened with Logan, when he confronted you with the fact that he knew who you were and where you came from." Max heard a subtle shift in Bling's tone and met his gaze, looking wary, but not interrupting this time. "Here's this guy with the full book on you, but not looking to turn you in. In fact, he does just the opposite – he does all he can to get your back. And not only that, for the first time in your life you have someone you can tell about all you've been through – your hopes for finding the others, all the things you can do – what life must have been life for a nine year old, on the run ... for a three year old soldier..." Bling's voice gradually softened even more, compelling her attention. "That must have been the first step for you, how you could let him in and let yourself love him. This guy knows _all_ of it, all of _you_, and he can take it, without judgment or condemnation ... he even helps you track down your past. And in doing so he falls head over heels in love with you while convincing himself he doesn't have a prayer of doing anything about it." Bling's eyes continued watching her closely, weighing her reactions. "What must it have meant to you, Max, to have such complete acceptance of who and what you are, from someone so willing to love you, unconditionally? It couldn't have been easy for you to open up and accept all that Logan offered, not after so many years of having to close yourself off from any human connection."

One of the tears that had threatened for long minutes now slipped over her cheek as Bling's words neared the wound she still bore from Logan's actions.

"You never had anyone in your life like Logan before, did you, Max? Even your siblings, once you found them – they had their own agendas and plans, and there you were, left alone, on the run. 'Alone' ... _but_ with Logan having been there for you, every day, any time you called. And because of that ...because you could see what a good man he was, how much he cared for you ... you let go and decided to let him in, past your defenses."

The involuntary response from Max, a single, painful inhale, sharp and broken, like a sob, told each of them that Bling had found the truth. "More even than loving him, you gave Logan your trust, freely and openly, and when he honored and kept that trust, you gave more and more of it, until he held all of it, all of _you, _in his hands. And he was always was _so_ worthy of that trust ... until now."

Her breath hitched again, as her eyes filled.

"... and it turns out he's just a man, insecure and selfish in his hopes that no matter all the insanity in your lives, no matter how you were conceived or trained, no matter your DNA, no matter Eyes Only or a bullet in his spine, the two of you could love each other – so much so that when he thought it was threatened, he made some stupid choices about how to protect it." Bling finally drew a long breath. "And where does that leave you now? Still in love with him and now without a clue if you can ever give your trust away to anyone again, as you did to him – without a clue if you can ever let _him_ have it back."

She must have known the truth somewhere deep down, because when Bling's words gave form to the emotions that had been tearing at her over the past days, the tears – and rattled, uneven breathing – pushed at her, hard, no matter how she tried to hold them in.

Bling saw her face crumple, and she looked like nothing so much as a hurt, abandoned child. "Max..." he said softly, involuntarily opening an arm to her. She wavered, and his warm hand touched her arm softly, there for her. The last bit of control she could manage – that she wanted to manage – fell away and she pushed into Bling's arms, her sobs gently shaking her form...

_TBC..._

A/N: Angst and the need to get through Max & Logan's current dilemma courtesy of an earworm that made me search out a video from a favorite and way too under-rated show from Aaron Sorkin, _Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip_. Those of you who haven't seen the show, see if you can find a copy; those of you who know the show, I have been haunted by the scene (found on You Tube and played repeatedly this weekend) in which Sting performs "Fields of Gold" and Harry knocks Matt's socks off...

::sob::


	14. Facing Facts

**DISCLAIMER:** Characters and situations in this story borrowed from Dark Angel and NCIS. No profits made.

**A/N:** Thanks for coming back to read, even life updates have been coming slowing in this story. Would love to hear from you so I know you're still out there! All comments and thoughts welcome.

**SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: April 1, 2020; 5:41 p.m.**

**SECTOR 9; Fogle Towers. Penthouse **

April Fools Day had been chilly, damp and gray. For so many days the only thing that could pull Logan out of bed to his computer, or away from his computer out into the world below his penthouse, was his work, some informant or lead or factoid to be uncovered. Days like this had been the worst; along with everything else that had happened – last year and recently – the weather seemed to be a perfect realization of what his life had felt like: first, without his previous mobility and agility, and now, without Max in his life, things seemed gray and cold, without joy or energy or beauty – without spark or spirit or fire; without _life_.

Some days he could bow to his duty, put his head down and slog through to accomplish his project for the day – whatever research or investigation he had in front of him. Other days – like today – it seemed pointless. _Tilting at windmills,_ his uncle had once said, derisively, about Eyes Only. _That type never gets it ... and never gets anywhere far. You'll see who disappears first – this outlaw or the people who __**really**__ make things happen... _

His uncle's words had never come back to haunt him when Max was around. Even if she'd never said too much directly about his work, the way she threw herself into her work while helping him, the things she'd report overhearing about his hacks, the way she looked at him sometimes, when his work led to changes for the better – all of that was like adrenalin to him, buoyed him and filled him with energy and drive to keep at his work. Even without trying she let him see the good in what he did and helped him past any set-backs. With Max's involvement in his work and their growing relationship making him feel valued and whole again, his uncle's pronouncement rarely intruded.

Then Max left, and it was as if she had taken all the color out of his life.

_All the color, and much of his success._ As the elevator rose back up toward his penthouse, Logan again wondered if he was approaching things differently since she'd gone, maybe even tainting his work – he was having trouble getting a handle on the project he was working on now. Informants were coming up dry about the rumored government contracts he was investigating, people seemed edgy and unwilling to talk, and he was unable to get any sort of traction to either verify that the rumors he was chasing were true, or flesh them out as merely another batch of unsupported allegations from disgruntled former employees.

He decided that, even if he had some part in things, it wasn't all him. This investigation felt off, for a number of reasons. Coming to his door, he keyed off his alarm system and unlocked his door, moving inside quickly to reset everything before dropping his keys on the side table and shrugging out of his damp jacket. He sighed. His place was dusky and silent; his kitchen too quiet, compared to how things used to be. Not much point in cooking for one...

He pushed on down the hall toward his computer room, wondering vaguely if finding some new approach to his research might kick some life into his work. In the dim, chilly penthouse, it seemed unlikely that anything could useful would appear...

Until he heard the smallest of sounds from his front room, a sort of shifting – and with a sudden _snick_ of the switch, a small, warm pool of light spilled out from the lamp near the couch – near Max. Max, who sat silently on the arm of his couch, one knee drawn to her chest and looking much younger than her two decades.

He'd startled with the sudden sound and sight, of course, but his being frozen in place, silent, was more his apprehension of what her return, unannounced, might mean. As long as she stayed away, he could pretend that things might one day be better. With the way Max looked, this had the feel of a showdown of some sort. Bad or good, he didn't know, but with Max here – apparently she was ready to talk. He wondered if he ever could be...

He swallowed, throat dry, and slowly came into the room, moving closer to her. The light was slightly in front of her, making it difficult to see the details of her expression, and Logan wondered briefly if she'd meant for that to happen. She'd come to him so it fell to her to talk, to take things to wherever she had in mind – but at least once more, he could welcome her there. "Max," he said softly. "How are you?"

The question carried true concern for her and what was going with her now, Max recognized, not just a clichéd greeting. She just nodded, then shrugged. "Okay. You?"

He smiled hollowly, and managed, "okay." After a beat, he offered, "if you're hungry, I can find something..."

She shook her head, and he refused to let himself succumb to the clutch of literal fear her response left in his gut. Max not hungry meant Max was there to confront things – confront _him_ – and maybe even meant she wasn't planning to be there long. Unconsciously he chewed his lip, though, a gesture not missed by Max. Her dark eyes darted to his mouth and then up to his eyes; he saw her glance soften ever so slightly and wondered at what it might mean.

Her whole bearing, her movements, everything about her was quiet, as quiet as he'd ever seen her. It wasn't ninja quiet, which was full of tension and energy, but careful and cautious, as if she was afraid of re-opening a wound. The image surprised him and he frowned a little, but before he could process even more she drew a long, slow breath to speak and, when she did, her voice carried a pain he'd never heard from her before. "Logan, I've tried to sort all this out, everything that happened, and ... what it meant to me. Fair to you or not ... this one was big. The worst. Of everything that we've done or said, this time ... " her words died in the air as she trailed off.

He willed his breathing to remain even, and wondered if he should say something, or just nod as if he was listening, or just ...wait for her to finish. The air around him was brittle, like glass, and he found himself almost afraid to breathe...

"I don't know if I can trust you again."

Her words pierced him, but weren't completely unexpected, given her reaction when he'd told her. The silence following was oppressive and after long moments, he spoke, as honest as he'd ever been. "I understand."

"No, I don't think you do," she said immediately, shaking her head forcefully, "I don't think you can. I didn't even know, until..." She paused, looking at him with an unreadable expression, then looked away, looking down at her hands as she raised them together, closed tightly, as if holding something trapped inside. "Until last year, all my life, everyone around me, _everyone_ – no matter their words, they communicated that they couldn't be trusted, not really. Either they were out to hurt me, or dissect me, or use me, or they were clueless, and didn't know what they were getting into with me. Didn't matter which it was, I just knew that there were things that I couldn't let _any_one know, because they would come back on me. So I kept it all in and no one knew about what went on those first years. It might not be the best life but I was safe and I knew I could depend on _me_."

"But then ... damn you ... you showed up in my life. And damn if you didn't get under my skin. And what's worse, you just ... you just kept doing things right, kept gettin' my back or looking to find the other kids for me. Everything you did was the opposite of everyone else, and just showed time after time that you were someone whom I could trust to get my back. And you'd found out my biggest secret right away, and didn't seem all that freaked out by who I was. So little by little, I let out a little more about things, and hung with you a little more, and it was all good and you could take it all and not let anything slip. More than anything, you _understood_, you knew about Manticore and why it was important not to go back, why, no matter what else happened, I had to stay away from them and keep the rest of the kids safe, too. And on top of that," she slumped a little, and her brow puckered in her hurt, "you have that noble streak, out saving the world for people like Original Cindy and Sketchy and even Normal, all the peeps just tryin' to get by. I don't know how I couldn't fall for you in all that. And with all that goin' on, pretty soon I just let you have it all, and gave you everything of me, everything I had, because I knew that no matter what, you had my back... you had _me_..." she whispered, a tear streaking down her face as her hands, which had opened slowly, like flower petals, now were fully opened before her. "And I was never so happy or felt so _normal_ in my life..."

She let her hands drop. She didn't have to say what happened next...

"I get that you wanted to ignore things, too," she went on, eyes cast down again, her voice soft, "and that if you didn't tell me maybe we could just pretend that Tony might not be a threat, even if he never would mean to be. It's just ..." She wavered, looking back to him, not sure she could ever make anyone understand. "Maybe it's not fair ... but up 'til then, Logan, I thought you were some kind of a superhero, always doing the right thing, even when you were doing something stupid to put yourself in danger, it was always for the right reason, and I never thought..." She trailed, looking for the right words, "I thought that if ever there was something that threatened our lives here –_ my_ life – you would do the right thing – or what _I_ saw was the right thing." She sighed and admitted, "I know that it was pretty selfish of _me_ to see it only from my side, but I think we both have to admit that 'my side' has bigger things at stake than just messing up our domestic tranquility."

Logan thought he'd seen where things were going, but wasn't so sure with her admission, and when she suddenly looked back in his eyes, deeply, he knew that something between them had broken and he didn't know if they would ever have it back. "Max..." he began, afraid to hear more.

"Maybe it's all really unfair to you, to have had some impossible idea of who you are, and unfair to have saddled you with all of me, but ... I did, Logan. I exposed everything to you because you were the one person I'd ever met who I thought I could trust and I trusted with everything – but you turned out like all the rest ... and I don't know that I can trust you again..."

Logan felt his chest tighten, as if squeezed by some invisible force, and his eyes stung with her words and what he was certain he would hear next.

"...but I want to." Her voice was suddenly softer, and there was an unmistakable note of hurt and longing there. Surprised, he blinked rapidly, as if staring at her more closely would confirm those last words and tell him if there was any hope to be had in them. "More than anything I want to turn back the clock and go back to where we were, where I was, when I felt as if I could just hide in your arms and be safe, when _everything_ was safe with you..."

His eyes spilled over.

"...but I just don't know if it's possible."

Silently, he lifted a hand to her, reaching out for hers. "Max," he crooned, his pulse racing in fear that she wouldn't come to him.

She stood, took a hesitant step, then another. "I know ... it was only one time, but ... if you knew how..."

"Max..." He pushed forward the last few inches between them and reached for her hand, gently lifting her fingers with his.

"...it wouldn't have been anything if..." her voice was trembling now, and the dampness on her cheek glittered faintly in the soft lamplight. "...if I didn't care so much about ...'

He wrapped his long fingers around hers and pulled her close, pulled her into his arms and into his lap and into his chest, wrapping her in his warmth and need for her. She folded into his embrace and he let out his breath, and as he felt her relax slightly as she nestled deeper in his arms he started to believe they might find their way back from the nightmare their lives had become. "Max, I am so, so sorry to have hurt you like that..." His words were barely as loud as his warm breath in the crook of her neck, the salt of his own tears mixing with hers. "The fact that you trusted me with so much in your life, and that you trusted me with your love, have always meant more than anything, and I know I haven't shown you that as I should have – especially then. " His words broke off as he looked for a way to express that he knew what he'd jeopardized between them. "For what I've done to make you doubt me, or doubt how much I love you..."

Max pulled back a little, looking at him again, searching his eyes, to dare, "as much as you want to trust Tony, I don't know if I can, not in the way you'd want me to. What will happen if you have to make a choice like that again?"

Logan held her eyes for a moment, then looked away and nodded, painfully, understanding what she needed to know. "When Tony told me he knew ... in those first few seconds, the only thing I could think of was how to take Tony out for whatever time it would take for you to get away, how I could incapacitate him for the twenty four to forty eight hours you'd need to get over the border ... wondering for all of about ten seconds if I could go on the lam with you ... wondering how I could lose you again ... knowing that it meant having to make a choice between the two of you and knowing in the circumstances I just might end up losing you both, but knowing ..." He reached up to brush her cheek, "I would have to find a way to keep you in my life, on the lam with you or not. And if it meant cutting ties with Tony ... it would have to be done."

His voice was even, but Max saw the truth of his words reflected in his eyes, and she suddenly knew that she wasn't the only one who had suffered all because, all those years ago, Tony's path had happened to cross hers. She remembered the terrible loss she'd felt with Zack's orders that they split up, still sharp more than a decade later, and could understand a little more why Logan had kept things secret as he had. Truly relaxing a little for the first time in weeks, Max leaned in to rest her forehead against Logan's. "No one hopes more than I do that you're right about everything, and there's no need for any of that."

"Max..." His hope was still alive, but he wasn't all that sure where things were with them. "I love you, and I was stupid to put anything before your safety. I will fight like hell never to make a mistake like that again."

She smiled softly and shrugged, "at least you didn't just say you'd never do it again – I like a man who knows himself well enough to admit that sometimes he makes stupid mistakes."

Logan had watched her smile grow as she spoke, and seeing it, began to believe he had been granted another chance with her. "Then you'll love me when I tell you just how stupid I can be."

Her smile softened again as she nodded. "Yeah. I _do_ love you." But she sobered a little, and looked away to add, "but Logan ... I don't know if it can be the same; it took me a long time to be able to trust anyone so completely and if I can't ..."

"I will do all I can to let you trust me again, Max, I _can_ promise you that."

Her smile flickered up again a bit in her own hope, and she looked at him again, again with her deep, searching look for what was behind his intelligent green eyes. Breaking the look suddenly, she moved back into his arms to tuck herself in against his chest, longing for the comfort he offered her. "Then letting me be right here is a good start..."

_**TBC**_


End file.
